Queens's Brooklyn
by CrissCross
Summary: When CrissCross was 10, she was forced to flee Brooklyn because of Trigger Jones, the new, murderous head of Queens. She fled as far as Colorado, but four years later, the assassination of Brooklyn's king, Spot Conlon, causes her to come running home.
1. Chapter One: GoldTipped

**Chapter One: Gold-Tipped**

Criss-Cross looked up as the newcomer walked in. A slight smirk spread across her face as she set down her bowl of hot vegetable stew and stood up. She always enjoyed taking the newbies on a tour. It was fun. She'd been the leader of the Colorado Springs Lodging House since it had opened, and she was proud to say that she had never left a tenant unhelped. As she opened her mouth to speak, Criss-Cross noticed something different about the newcomer. For a second, it had looked like one of her old friends from New York.  
_  
It can't be..._, she thought, _can it? Nah. Dere's no way! _Her thoughts were confident, but a shadow of doubt had crept into her mind, just as it always did when she thought about New York.

"Hey dere. Welcome ta da Coloradah Springs Lodgin' House," she said, her tone confident and challenging, just like it always was.

She walked over to the stranger and stood like a powerful queen before a peasant. Spitting into her palm, she extended it toward the stranger and continued"I'se Criss-Cross. Criss-Cross Kat Conlon. Dat's me full name. D'ough everyone 'round heah jus' calls me Criss-Cross. Or CC if deys can' 'membah Criss-Cross. I'se da leadah a dis steam gratin'. Who's you?"

The stranger had kept their head down as she'd talked, and had never taken her extended hand. His actions were starting to stir up Criss-Cross's bad temper. Especially since a sly smile had spread over his face when she'd said her name. Criss-Cross had already indefinitely decided that the person was a boy, and that she didn't like him much.

"Conlon?" he asked, his voice agreeing with Criss-Cross's decision that he was a boy.

"Yeah. You'se got a problem wit' it?" she challenged him. Her temper was rising, and as she finally pulled her hand back to her side, she balled it into a fist and clenched it tight.

"Nah. Only dat ya changed yer name. Ain't dat true, Criss-Cross Katherine Watson?" his voice asked, slyly in a New York accent. Criss-Cross's eyes drew wide and she backed up a step, nearly falling over. It had been a long time since anyone had called her by her old initials. _It's been near a year since I've heard that..._ she thought. She was growing more and more bewildered.

"What da yas want?" Criss-Cross asked, slowly backing towards the counter where she'd left her slingshot.

"Only ta bring ya dis." The stranger pulled something from underneath his jacket that Criss-Cross had not seen in years. It was a gold-tipped cane, and it had once belonged to her brother, Spot Conlon, the fearless leader of Brooklyn.

Criss-Cross gasped, and the last thing she felt before her world went totally black, was the face of Specs, a Manhattan newsie she had befriended when she'd last been in New York.

A/N: Yeah. It's kinda a lame first chapter. But oh well. You'll see. I'm just trying to get out the main plot. After I'm finished writing it, then I'll come back and fix things and add in details to make them better.


	2. Chapter Two: Step Away

**Chapter Two: Step Away**

Lying blacked out on the floor, a long-forgotten memory drifted back to Criss-Cross...

_It was early spring, 1890, and the younger girl named Katherine Conlon was silently sleeping with Ellie -the woman who was the only family Katherine had, even though they weren't related- in a back alley in Queens. The two had been on the streets for officially a year in April. Together they sold papers and anything else they could on street corners, just trying to make enough money to stay alive. Ellie had been taken ill earlier that morning, and so, for the first time ever, Katherine had sold her papers by herself. At three years old, Katherine was more streetwise than many, though, she still had a lot to learn._

A suddenly loud bang came from the head of the alley, and she woke with a start from her dreamless sleep. Peering through the pitch black of the night, she saw the outlines of three big, burly men. One sniff of the breeze that was blowing off of them immediately told her they were drunk. Shaking Ellie, she whispered fast, "Dere's some goons in de alley. Dey looks drunk."

Ellie sat bolt upright and threw herself in front of Katherine. She knew what time of men these were, and she knew what they would do to Katherine if they found her.

"Katherine, do you membah Sister Evans? Wells, I'm gonna distract da goons, an' I want you ta run ta her place. A'ight? Run, an' don't look back."

Katherine whispered okay, and slunk back against the wall as the goons approached Ellie.

"We heah you gots a kid," the first goon said.

"A lil goil," another added in.

"I gots no such t'ing," Ellie responded.

"She's lyin'," the first, who appeared to be the leader spat out. "Per'aps we should show her some coitesy boys..."

The other two gave a laugh and advanced toward Ellie with clubs in their hands. The first hit knocked Ellie down onto the ground with a sickening thud, and from there on it was just murder.

Katherine watched in horror for her hiding spot in the corner. They were killing her one and only family member. The one person she loved in the world. She watched as one blow hit Ellie's head, and blood began to pour out onto the ground. With her last breathe, Ellie screamed out to Katherine, "Sister Evans, child! Sister Evans!"

"Ellie!" Katherine's cry pierced the night, full of the greatest anguish known to man. Thus far she had remained silent as she'd watched her loved one killed, but she could no longer. Sprinting away from the wall, she ran at the goons who had killed her beloved Ellie, her grandmother, mother, and sister, all in one.

Katherine had never been raised to be violent. Nor had she any former experience fighting, but that didn't mean she couldn't fight. She'd been raised on the street since she was little, and even at three she knew how to fight well. Her first kick landed right where it was meant to, right in the first goon's family jewels. As he howled in pain, she sent her tiny fist right at his nose. Before the two connected, her arm was stopped by one of the other goons, and so was all her chance at fighting. Easily the first man pinned her to the wall and as she flailed and tried to break loose, he began to beat on her.

Fortunately for Katherine, her screams had attracted the attention of a group of 7 kids. They were Queens newsies, and they had all seen the brave three year-old's fight thus far.

"Halt!" rang a female voice from the rooftops. Katherine and the goons all looked up to see a spry girl at the age of 13 aiming a slingshot right at them. Beside her stood three more kids with slingshots, and one with a small torch. Katherine would later learn that the girl's name was Frisk, and that the little boy beside her who carried the torch was her brother, Chris. "Step away from 'er an' we won' fiah. Fail ta comply and we'll bust yer jaws!"

The leader of the goons gave a harsh laugh, which was immediately silenced as a marble flew straight at his face and hit him hard on one of his cheekbones. As blood began to flow down his cheek, he began to growl.

Out of nowhere came the rest of Frisk's group, brandishing clubs and walking sticks. The three other kids on the rooftop opened fire on the goons as Frisk jumped down and began to use her fists in a fight with them. In moments the goons had fled the seen, leaving the beaten, sobbing Katherine there with Frisk.

A/N: I have no idea if y'all will like this or not. But please review!


	3. Chapter Three: The Note

**Chapter Three: The Note**

Criss-Cross felt her mind slowly drifting back, and was about to open her eyes, but then what she'd seen before she passed out came back to her. _What if Specs was still there? _She opened her eyes a slit and saw a face right above hers.

"Kat? Kat Conlon?" Dark, her fellow resident was standing over her. Criss-Cross sat up fast, causing her hat to fall off, and punched him hard in the nose.

"How many times I'se gotsta tell yas? Da name's Criss-Cross! CC foah shoit if yas can't membah it, chump!" she hissed at him, furious. Her temper was running high as shereached back for her fallen hat.

"Sorry,"Dark said, rubbing his nose. "What happened?"

"It's none a yer business," Criss-Cross grumbled at him. She twirled her hair up and stuffed her cabby hat on over it, causing her appearance to change from that of a rather pretty girl to a that of a cute, tough boy. Her glare finished it off.

As she stood up, she realized that Specs was nowhere to be seen. Had it just been her imagination? Or had he really been there? Shaking her head, she walked back to where she'd been perched on her stool before the stranger had come, and sat down to finish her bowl of stew.

"Alright..."Dark said. Finally, after a moment's silence, he turned and walked up the stairs to the bunkrooms, leaving Criss-Cross to her rather muddled thoughts.

_Wells, I'se guess it was jus' me imagination gettin' ta me..._ Criss-Cross thought as she pull off her shirt and pants that night. Wearing just the men's underwear she always wore and her hat (she'd grown accostumed to sleeping in it back in the boys lodging houses she had stayed in when she'd been living in New York that she still slept with it on), she slipped under the old quilt covering her bed. She stretched her legs out long, and as she did, the sole of her foot hit something cold and metal. A small scream of surprise escaped her lips as she threw back the quilt to see what it was.

Her eyes grew wide as she saw the gold-tipped cane lying amonst the dull colors of the quilt, around it was wrapped a note. Criss-Cross looked up to see if anyone was watching her, but she had already pulled down the thin sheet that acted as a curtain for her small bunk, and so no one could see her. With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch it. For the first time in four years her fingers felt the familiar cool metal. The sensation sent chills up her spine. Excitement seemed to flow from her fingers resting on the metal, all through her body, making the small scar on her head feel hot. With the excitement came a longing she hadn't felt in years...

Criss-Cross gingerly touched the scar. That scar held her last memories of the cane. A memory that she had long tried to forget. She blinked, suddenly realizing how moist her eyes were. It was amazing how such a little thing as a cane could give her such powerful emotions. Realizing she'd forgotten the note, she slowly unwrapped it. There, written in an untidy scrawl was written a short message. It read:

_Criss-Cross,  
It's been a long time since we'se last talked. Remembah me? It's yer ol' pal Specs. Anyway, sorry ta surprise ya like dat. Ya looked like ya hit yer head pretty hard. Hope you'se okay. Anyway, please meet me at the corner a da street at 10 o'clock. I'se really need ta talk ta ya. Please. Be there. You'se really gotta here what I'se gotta say. We'se all been missin ya bunches-Specs_

Criss-Cross gave it some thought and looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 9:45. If she was going to meet to meet Specs she'd have to get dressed again and slip out quietly. She sat for a moment, silently carressing the cane as she thought, and then finally she decided what she was going to do.

A/N: Okay, now we're starting to get farther into the story. Please review!


	4. Chapter Four: Things've Changed

**Chapter Four: Things've Changed**

A lone person in a bowler hat and glasses stood on the corner of 1st Street, which, to some, was known as Newsies Street or Lodging House Street because of the large newsboys (and newsgirls) lodging house that stood directly in the center of the street.

If you were to talk to the lone person, you would find a few things about him quite peculiar. For one, he was not from around Colorado Springs, nor was he even from Colorado. Another odd thing you'd find was his accent. Most people wouldn't be able to place it, as they hadn't been far enough east, but it was from New York. However, no one stopped to talk to the stranger, and so he stood quietly in his own thoughts as he awaited an old friend.

A clock off in the distance struck 10, and he looked up, hoping to see her walking towards him, but she was nowhere in sight. He sighed and looked down at his feet, scuffing his boots in the dirt. He'd wait for a few more minutes, but if she didn't show soon, then it meant she wasn't coming at all.

As the clock struck the quarter hour, he decided to give up. She wasn't going to meet him. _Probley best..._ he thought. Folding up the article he had been holding, he stuck it in his pocket and began to walk away.

"Wells, dat's a little rude if yas ask me... Not even a 'hello' foah da poisen ya asked ta meet ya heah?" a voice said over his shoulder. Spinning around, he came face-to-face with the grin of Criss-Cross Kat Conlon. The younger girl spat into her palm and held her hand out to him, saying, "Wells, if I'se gonna pick one a da Manhattan boys ta be out heah in da west, you'se'd be da last one on me list...Wells, second ta last. Crutchy'd be last."

Specs laughed, spat into his own palm, and then shook her hand. "I'se never thought about dat," he responded.

"Ya t'ink about da strangest t'ings when you'se in a new place all on yer own," Criss-Cross said a little sadly.

"I'se wouldn't know..." Specs said, his tone apologetic.

"Wells, what's we'se waitin' foah? Yer note said yas had somethin' ta tells me."

Specs suddenly felt bad about what he was about to say. Criss-Cross seemed to be already a little sad, but it looked like she was doing good in Colorado. But what he had to say would completely upset both her and her current good life. "Ah, it's can wait. So'se, how's ya likin' it heah?"

"Specs...Please...Jus' go ahead an' tell me..." Criss-Cross said sternly. She perched herself on a barrel that sat on the edge of the road and gave him a look that he'd only ever seen once before, on the face ofthe Brooklyn newsie, Spot Conlon, who was also her brother. For a second Specs swore he was seeing the ghost of Spot, the two looked so alike, and then he became depressed when he noticed she had the cane with her.

"Wells...It's a good thing you'se already sittin' down, cuz what I'se gots ta tell ya is upsettin'. See's things've changed in New Yawk, an' well, Triggah Jones's taken ovah Queens."

"I'se already know dat. 'E took ovah Queens back when I'se ten. Dat's why I'se been runnin' foah 4 yeahs."

"It's not jus' Queens. 'E's taken ovah Brooklyn."

"What! Spot'd nevah give up Brooklyn! 'E'd nevah loose 'is pride an' joy ta Triggah. 'E'd fight 'til 'e died foah dat little piece a heaven. You'se gotta be lyin'!"

"Dat's jus' it d'ough. Spot an' da Brooklyn boys put up a good fight. But da Bronx was fightin' wit' Queens, an' Jack refused ta bring Manhattan inta it. An', wells..."

"Wells what?"

"Spot's dead..."

Criss-Cross's eyes grew wide in disbelief, and a look of pure grief passed over her face. "D-d-dead?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Specs nodded and gave her a sympathetic look. "H-how?" she asked, her voice cracking with sorrow. She'd loved Spot, even though he'd run her out of New York. He'd always been her brother. And now he was dead? _A coise..._ she thought, _that's why I'se got 'is cane now. 'E nevah woulda pawted wit' it in life...  
_  
"Triggah's hand we'se thinkin'," Specs replied, his voice sympathetic, yet there was anger at Trigger Jones in it too.

Criss-Cross nodded and looked down at the ground, fighting back both a scream, and tears. _How could dis have happened?_ she thought, _How could 'e be dead? How could everythin' have changed so drastically? And why did dey send Specs out heah ta tell me'se? It jus' doesn' make sense...  
_  
"Why'd ya come out heah an' tell me'se?" she asked, voicing her thoughts.

"Wells..." Specs wasn't exactly sure why he'd been sent to tell Kat. Other than to let her know, and to try to persuade her to come back to New York. It'd been Jack who had sent him out here, and Specs had just figured it was because he cared about Criss-Cross being Spot's younger sister and wanted her to know. "I'se jus' came ta let ya know. An', wells, ta ask yas ta come back ta New Yawk with me. Jack wants ta see yas, an' talk with yas. 'E wants ta make shoah yer okay. 'E cares about yas a lot."

Criss-Cross nodded. She'd been expecting that response. But all she said in response was, "I'se got ta get back ta da lodgin' house. Night." And with that she got off the barrel and walked back to the lodging house, tears in her eyes, and a heavy heart and mind.

A/N: Hey. Okay. This is all I'm gonna post for today. Though, I've already gotten up through chapter 10 written up. Anyway, please review!


	5. Chapter Five: A Helpful Friend

**Chapter Five: A Helpful Friend**

Criss-Cross stumbled numbly through the window behind her bunk in the girl's bunkroom. She watched the other girls sleeping silently for a moment, and then walked slowly into the bathroom. Propping the cane against a sink, she stared at her face in the mirror for a minute, realizing for the second time in her life how much she actually looked like Spot.

Upon hearing the news of his death, she'd felt like she been hit by a train, and it had just carried her away at top speed, squashed on it's front, leaving her emotions far behind. But finally, it seemed, they had caught up. Lowering her head into her heads, she began to sob openly, her shuddering breaths echoing off the walls of the empty bathroom.

_He's dead..._ she thought, _He's dead...He's gone...My brother's gone..._ Having already lost her mother, Ellie -who had become older sister, mother, and grandmother to her, Frisk -the newsie who had saved her life and become like an older sister to her, and now her brother, Criss-Cross didn't know how she would go on. She'd never really gotten to know her father in the year she'd spent working as though she was a maid in his household, nor had she ever gotten to know the girl, Ruckus, who was supposed to be her half-sister. She was not ready to lose her brother, whom she'd considered her only real living relative.

She heard a door open on the opposite side of the bathroom, and immediately turned on the water to drown out her sobs. She splashed some water on her face to hide the fact that they were tear-streaked, and tried to look like she was just getting ready for bed. Her eyes, however, betrayed her. They had grown red from the tears, and her lower lip still quivered a little.

"Criss-Cross?" Dan, one of the boys from the boys's bunkroom asked her. She splashed a little more cold water on her face, and then reached for a towel, realizing a second later that he was holding one out for her. She gave him a small smile that made the quivering of her lower lip all the more obvious, and accepted the small token, immediately burying her face in it.

"You okay?" Dan asked, concerned. Criss-Cross gave him another small smile and nodded, not looking him in the eye. Dan had always reminded her of her best friend Chris from back in Queens. Or, Queens as it had been before Trigger Jones had taken it over.

Dan sighed, remembering how stubborn Criss-Cross could be. It was obvious to him that she wasn't okay, and that she probably wouldn't be. He had heard her sobs when he'd first opened the door a crack, and now he could see her red eyes and trembling lower lip. He stepped in closer to her, and putting his hands on her shoulders, looked straight down into her eyes from his greater height.

"Criss-Cross, tell me the truth, are you okay?" he asked, his voice sympathetic and full of concern.

"I'se'll be fine," she replied, her New York accent even more obvious against his calm, gentle, low midwest one.

"What's the matter?" he asked, still resting his hands on her shoulders. He was one of the few Colorado newsies who actually knew her story, her real past of what had happened in New York. He'd managed to get closer to her than Criss-Cross'd like, but surprisingly, she'd been okay with it.

"I'se…Wells…Dat is…" she tried to say.

"Yeah?" he asked, comfortingly. But then his eyes grew a tad suspicious. "Does this have anything to do with what happened to you earlier?"

"Yas know about dat?" she asked, a little surprised.

"Yeah,Dark told me."

"What! Please tells me 'e didn' go spreadin' it 'round da house…"

"He didn't…He just told me because he was concerned. Said it looked like you'd hit your head hard."

Criss-Cross gave a nod, and suddenly realized that tears were streaming down her face again. Feeling ashamed, she reached up to wipe them away. Only a few people in her life had ever seen her crying like this, and that had only been when she was younger. First when her mother had died, then when Ellie had died, and finally, when she'd been ten years-old, Frisk had died. Ever since no one had ever seen her cry. She'd always kept the hard-core reputation. She'd always kept up the hard appearance, which hadn't been hard, because she was tough.

"What happened today Criss-Cross?" Dan pressed, holding out a handkerchief to her.

Criss-Cross accepted it and tried to steady her breathing. "An' ol' friend a mine from New Yawk stopped came by dis aftahnoon, an' he told mes some really upsettin' news, dat's all," she said, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to tell Dan everything.

Dan nodded, and then the gold-tipped cane caught his eye. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's nuthin'. Jus' somethin' dat me friend from New Yawk brought wit' 'im."

Dan stared hard at the cane, trying to remember why it rang a bell in his memory, and then he looked up at Criss-Cross. Her hat was at an odd angle, and was falling off her head as they spoke. _There…_ he thought, _that's why it sounds familiar._ He was looking at the small scar that lay barely visible right as Criss-Cross's hairline. He remembered that her brother had given it to her the last time she'd seen him, when he'd hit her with a gold-tipped cane!

"It's your brother's, isn't it?" he asked. Criss-Cross just nodded, looking down lovingly and longingly at the object that stood propped against the sink. Suddenly Dan understood. _Something happened to her brother…_ he thought. _That's the news her friend brought._

"Wells, I'se gotta get ta bed. T'anks d'ough," she said, picking up the cane and stepping towards the door to the girls's bunkroom. Dan watched her leave, feeling sorry for the tough 14 year-old. _She does so much…_ he thought. _Goes through so much… And now she's got to deal with this on top of it all…_


	6. Chapter Six: A Father's Love

**Chapter Six: A Father's Love**

Criss-Cross got very little sleep that night. Between the tears, and her reeling mind with the decision that loomed over her head. It was no surprise to her when sunrise came only fifteen minutes after she had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion. As soon as the sun peaked through, she was up and out of bed, her hat shoved firmly down over her puffy, red eyes. She hurried through the bathroom, not seeing any of the others awake, and went straight down to the kitchen, where she stuff a chunk of old bread into her pocket, and took off for the distribution office.

She didn't want to see any one else besides those she had to see, for if they didn't even look that hard, they could tell that she'd been crying. She hit the office right as it opened, got her daily 200 papes, and hit the streets to sell, her thoughts lost in New York...

_At six years-old Katherine Conlon -who had been nicknamed Kat because she always seemed to land on her feet, and plus is was a shortened form of her name- was just as tough as all the other newsies. She could fight, she could shoot her slingshot, and most of all, she could sell. Frisk, who had become like an older sister to her, had noticed early on that the girl had a hot temper, but at the same time an inexplicable charm. Kat was an amazing seller, always managing to tell close to the truth, yet sell a hundred papes. It had always surprised Frisk how easily the girl could sell the smaller papers too. It wasn't just the World and the Journal that Kat sold, but it was all the papers. She'd sell the Times, the Sun, and the Tribune. It always made Frisk proud to sell by the smaller girl's side._

It was late November of 1892 when the bull that would tear apart their newsie family showed up at the door of the Queens Lodging House. He was asking looking for a girl by the last name of Conlon, and everyone immediately knew he meant Kat. Before they could find out why, he'd dragged her out the door and shoved her into the back of a carriage, throwing in a skirt, blouse, and cape after her. He yelled at her to change into them or face jail, and then hopped up onto the driver's seat of the carriage. All the Queens kids looked on with confusion as he drove off south with Kat in the back of the carriage. 

The bull had been asigned the job of taking Kat to the house of her father, a semi-wealthy man who lived in Brooklyn. Kat remembered that Harold Conlon, a worker in a factory in Queens, had befriended her mother, a young woman by the name of Sarah Watson, when h was 19. Sarah had been 15 at the time, and completely infatuated with him. The two had courted for 2 years, and when Harold had turned 19, he had gotten Sarah to do the unthinkable with him. Convinced that the two would one day marry, she had spent a night with him, and, to her great misfortune, it had resulted in her becoming pregnant.

Sarah's family had disowned her, and Harold had run off, back to his home in Brooklyn, leaving Sarah to face the world alone. Seventeen and pregnant, Sarah was shunned by society, and so her baby, a girl whom she named Katherine, was born in a back alley in Queens.

Kat had always thought that was the funny thing about her life. She had been born on the streets, and, save for a brief 2 years in an apartment she had spent her life on the streets, an improper place for a young lady to spend her time.

And so it was with great irony that she found herself, dressed in a skirt and cape (the like of which she had not worn in three years), standing on the doorstep of her father's house. The bull had knocked on the door and then just left, not even waiting for her father to answer. After a few minutes, the door finally came open, and Kat looked sadly upon the face of a father who had first deserted her, and then, six years later, decided to welcome her into his home, though she didn't yet know why...

Criss-Cross shook her heard in anger, remembering her father's house. There she had spent the better part of both her sixth and seventh years as little better than a slave in a household that was supposed to be loving. She'd always wondered why a man who had left her before she was born would suddenly become interested in his child, but she had later found out why. Perhaps if he had never sent for her, she would never be standing in the middle of a pint-size town in the west. Sighing, Criss-Cross finally realized she'd subconsciously come to a decision about New York, and so she turned to selling her papes, her vigor and strength renewed.


	7. Chapter Seven: Ride of Your Life

**Chapter Seven: Ride of Your Life**

Tom, a cowboy at a ranch just outside Colorado Springs, had been surprised when the young lad had come in asking to buy a horse. The lad had told him his name was Spot Watson, and he was looking to buy a horse that he could ride back east to visit his ailing mother. Tom, however suspicious, had agreed to sell him one after Spot had produced ten dollars from his pocket.

Now, Tom watched as Spot mounted the horse, his saddlebag strapped tight behind the western saddle.  
"Careful riding him too fast," Tom said. "He's a wild one. You're in for the ride of your life kid."

Spot just laughed and took off on the horse, and within an instant he was gone from sight. Shaking his head, Tom turned back to his work, wondering how soon it'd be before the horse came galloping back to the ranch riderless.

Criss-Cross grinned as Dan pulled the gleaming chestnut to a stop in front of the lodging house.

"I got the right horse, right," he asked as he dismounted.

"Yeah. 'E's da same crazy hoise I'se rode out heah on" she responded, swinging herself up into the saddle.

"What's his name," Dan asked, curious.

"Red Hot Pokah," Criss-Cross replied with a laugh"An' 'e's'll shoah give yas da ride a yer life if yas not ready foah 'im. Wells, I'se guess I'se should be off." With that, she tipped her hat, clucked to Poker, and was off in a flash.

Specs looked up at the lodging house with a sigh. Stepping inside, he was surprised to find a boy at the desk, who, quite obviously, was not Criss-Cross.

"Can I help you?" the other boy asked, and Specs gave him a bewildered look.

"Yeah. I'se lookin' for a goil named Criss-Cross. She's da leadah a dis house" Specs responded somewhat uncertainly. _If Criss-Cross is da leadah,_ he wondered, _then why is dis guy behind da desk?_

"You just missed her" the other boy replied. "She just left for a trip back to her roots to, um, settle some conflicts. I'm afraid she won't be back for quite a while. In the meantime, is there anything I can do"

"She-She went back?" Specs asked, surprised. He didn't for the life of him think that she'd go back to New York, but according to this boy she had.

The other boy nodded and turned back to the desk, slowly looking over some paperwork.

"Dat's all I'se needed ta know. Thanks," Specs replied, and swept out of the room, headed for the trainyard.


	8. Chapter Eight: Steam Gratin'

**Chapter Eight: Steam Gratin'**

The owner of the Central Park Lodging House looked up as the door opened, expecting to see one of his usual boys, but instead he saw a new face peering back at him.

"Yas got a free bed?" the new boy asked.

"Yeah. But first I need yer name an' some othah information," he answered.

"Watson. What else yas need ta know?"

"Last name?"

The boy gave an exasperated sigh"Look, I'se jus' in needa a steam gratin'. Can I'se get one heah a not?"

"I'se said you can get one heah, but first I need some information. What's yer last name?"

"Watson's what ya'll know me's by. It's me las' name anyway."

"A'ight. Then what's yer first name?"

"I'se go by Criss-Cross as me foist name. A'ight?"

The owner sighed and nodded. Apparently he wasn't going to get the boy's real first name, so he decided to give up.

"Wheah ya from?"

"Wells, I'se jus' got back from Colaradah. A'ight?"

"Ya sound like yer from New Yawk," the owner replied, getting more annoyed by the minute.

"Wells, I'se am originally, but's I'se jus' got back from Colahradah. A'ight?"

"A'ight, fine. Ya got any fam'ly?"

The boy gave a huge sigh. "Wells, I'se t'ink I'se still gots a faddah, an' poss'bly a sistah, but I'se ain't shoah. Me bruddah's dead d'ough..."

"A'ight," the owner replied, not wanting to push the subject as he could see it upset the boy. "Ya got a hist'ry with da bulls?"

"Nah...I'se a good lil poisen..." the boy said, slightly sarcastically.

"A'ight then...One more question, an' this is the one no kid like ta answer. What's yer past?"

The boy visibly bit his lip and sighed. "Listen' all I'se needin' is a steam gratin'. I'se won't be 'round heah much, I'se sweah."

"Sorry kid, ya still gotta answer the question..."

The boy got an annoyed look and took a moment thinking, chosing his words carefully. "Wells...Uh...Um...Dat is...Ya sees..."

"Look kid, I ain't got all day, so either say it or get outta heah."

"A'ight..." The boy got a far-off look in his eye and simply said, "I'se got in a brawl wit' me bruddah cuz I'se let 'im down, an' I'se ran away from wheah I was stayin' wit' 'im, cuz 'e was real mad at me, an' I'se couldn' stand ta t'ink about it. An' den I went out ta Colahradah ta really cleah me head, but den I found out 'e's dead so'se I'se came back ta New Yawk. A'ight?"

"Sounds kinda fishy, but yer in. Now I'se just need ta copy down yer hair an' eye color." He looked at the hair you could see under the boys cap on either side of his face, and was suddenly confused. On once side the hair was a dark blonde, and on the other it was a reddish-brown.

Seeing the owner's confusion, the boy stated, "Me haiah's a reddish brownish blonde, but I'se got a small brown streak on me left side. An' me eyes are a gray-green-hazel type colah. A'ight?"

The owner nodded, recorded it down in his book, and then led the boy up a flight of stairs and into the bunkroom without a word. He pointed out which bunk would be the boy's and then left him alone to sort his tiny amount of belongings out.


	9. Chapter Nine: Wicked

**Chapter Nine: Wicked**

A quilt, a locked tin can full of coins, a slingshot, and a gold-tipped cane were all the new-comer had brought besides clothes, Wicked Winter (Wick or Wicked for short) noted. Wicked was the leader of the Central Park Lodging House, and he was tough as nails. At six feet tall he towered over all the New York newsies, except for Trigger Jones, who stood at six feet two inches.

Wicked was nothing but pure muscle, and he was said to be the best fighter Manhattan had ever seen, not that Manhattan counted for anything. Queens were the bigshots now. In time long-past, Wicked had been good allies and friends with Brooklyn, who had been the big shots. Together with Jack Kelly -the true leader of the Manhattan newsies- and Spot Conlon -the strong, proud, defiant leader of Brooklyn, the Brooklyn-Manhattan alliance had been the strongest around. That was at least, until the Bronx fell to Queens, and Trigger Jones had waged open war on Spot and Brooklyn.

To this very day that the new boy had walked into the lodging house, Wicked still cursed Jack for never going to Spot's aid. Brooklyn had been out-numbered with horrible odds, that not even Spot -with all his dozens of prize fighters and his own skill- could beat. _It's only a mattah a time befoah Manhattan falls ta Triggah too..._ he thought, not unbitterly.

Realizing he was alone with the new boy, Wicked took his chance at questioning him, and making sure he wasn't a spy in their midst. However, he didn't realized that the "boy" was exactly the opposite.

"What's yer name kid?" he asked, abruptly and with a nasty, clipped tone.

The boy look up defiantly, "I'se go by a lottah t'ings. But right now I'se goin' by Watson."

Wicked didn't like that response. For one thing, only spies changed their names a lot, or had reason to go by a bunch of different things. For another, Watson was a last name, and not a proper newsie's name.

"What's yer real name?" he challenged.

The boy sighed. "Cee-Cee-Kay-Doubleya. If yas must know. But I'se told yas dat I'se ain' goin' by dat right now."

"An' dat stands foah...?"

"A'ight, fine. Me real name's Criss-Cross. Anythin' else?" the new boy challenged, his eyes blazing and he turned to spreading the ragged old quilt over his bunk.

"Yeah. Jus' thought you'se might like ta knows. I'se da leadah 'round heah. Got dat?"

"Yeah. An' dat's fine by me, jus' as long as I'se can get done what I'se need ta get done an' get back home."

Infuriated, Wicked grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall, his face barely an inch away from the other boy's. "Spy..." he hissed.

"I'se ain't no spy. If dat's what you'se t'inkin'. I'se ain't foah Queens at all. I'se hate Triggah's guts if dat's what yer talkin' about. An' I figger it is. An' now you'se already answered me question. Apparen'ly Manhattan ain't fallen ta Triggah yet..." the boy replied in a calm cool tone. But then his eyes turned dangerously icey and cold. "Now let me's down befoah I'se gotsta soak yas..."

Wicked felt like a bolt of lightning had lept out of the boy's eyes and hit him. Slowly he lowered the newcomer to the ground and released his shirt.

"So you'se on ouah side den?" he asked a tad stupidly.

"No, I'se on da side a Santa Fe! Ye gads! Coise I'se on yer side! What uddah side is dere? 'Sides da one dat's gonna be dead in t'ree days if it's up ta me's. An' jus' ta make it easiah foah yer slow mind, I'se'll say dat da dead side's Triggah's, an' any a dem moiderin' traitahs 'e's wit'." The boy suddenly got emotional. "If I'se evah get me hands on da ones dat helped 'im kill...Who's helped 'im kill..." The boy gulped past a lump in his throat and finished, "Who's helped 'im kill Spot Conlon, dey'll wish dey were dead. Cuz I'se'll do woise t'ings ta dem." Upon finishing both his face and voice were deadly, and Wicked thought his eyes alone could kill.

"I'll drink ta dat!" he said in reply, agreeing ten-fold to what the newcomer had said. It was funny, but Wicked almost thought he recognized the kid from somewhere, but he shook his head as if to clear the thought away. He was just being ridiculous.

"Anyway..." Wicked said, feeling sheepish about how he'd acted at the beginning, "I'se jus' wanted ta welcome yas ta da lodgin' house. Hope you'll like it heah."

Wicked walked away, as prideful a leader as ever, and not wanting to say sorry, because he never could, and never would.  
_  
He knew Spot..._Wicked thought about the newcomer as he walked out on the streets of Manhattan. _He must've...Only someone who knew Spot could care dat much about 'im bein' gone. He must've been real close ta Spot too. Dat must be wheah I remember 'im from! Brooklyn!_ Lost in his thoughts, Wicked didn't even notice that he was being watched by a gang of Queens boys in an alley across the street, but in the building behind him, someone did...


	10. Chapter Ten: Alibi an' Win

**Chapter Ten: Alibi An' Win**

Criss-Cross watched Wicked go, suddenly remembering where he was from. He was one of Spot Conlon's "Brookies" also known as Brooklyn gangmembers. Wicked had been in the first group that had come across Criss-Cross on the day that had started her true Brooklyn life. At the time she had been Kat Conlon, a "perfect little daughter". Shy and poised as any proper girl should be. Though, that was hardly the truth. She'd been fierce as a tigeress and twice as deadly, even before her Brooklyn training...

_  
Richer-than-the-average-man's daughter, Katherine Conlon, was a pretty little thing. At seven and a half years-old she was already sick of house life. She'd been a street rat up until the age of 6 and a half, and then suddenly she'd been forced into a dress and brought to the doorstep of the house on which she now stood again, only this time, she was prepared to leave. She was holding a pillowcase stuffed with 4 newly baked loaves of bread (that she'd baked herself), a quilt that she'd had since young childhood that had once belonged to her mother, a too-big pair of men's trousers with suspenders, a couple extra shirts, and 3 dollars she had taken out of her father's dresser drawer. She was still in a girl's skirts and shirt, with a cape over her shoulders and the hood up. But under the skirts and shirt she already had on men underwear, and in her skirt pocket she carried a small sewing kit with which she planned to take in the trousers. She also wore a sensible pair of boots that she'd had when she'd arrived at her father's doorstep._

Locking the front door, she silently slipped off down the street in the early morning fog. Silent as a shadow she snaked her way through the streets, heading North towards her home back in Queens. Her roots lay there, with Frisk and Chris.

Suddenly, out of nowhere it seemed, five boys appeared out of the fog, cornering her against a wall.

"Listen kid, we'se ain't about ta rough up a goil, but we'se in needa money, an' you'se look fancy enough ta have got some," the first kid spoke.

Katherine looked defiantly up from under her hood. "I'se got none!" she proclaimed, reaching for the small knife Frisk had given her in the two seconds they'd had alone before the bull had dragged her off.

"You'se got none!" the speaker sneered in disbelief. "You'se lyin' ta us kid. An' nobody lies ta us. Evah. Ya heah?"

"I'se got none. D'ough, if you'se lookin' foah food, I'se got fresh loaves a bread. But I'se ain' about ta share dem wit' you'se chumps," she retorted, a wicked grin coming across her face. Her grammar had never become as her father had wanted it to be. She was a street rat at heart, and she was determined to stay one.

The speaker, who apparently led the small group let out a growl. The chump comment had started his blood boiling. But a hand on his arm stopped him from hurting the pint-sized brave girl. "Let 'er go Alibi," the owner of the hand, a boy two years older than Katherine named Valiant Winter, Win for short said softly. His name would later become Wicked Winter as he changed lodging houses.

Katherine nodded to Win and said in the voice of someone who could only be a smart-alec, "Eiddah let me's go, oah take me's ta yer leadah. An' I'se meanin' ya real leadah, not some rif-raf who'se'd beat on a little goil."

Win nodded, and said in his soft manner"Follow me den..."

Criss-Cross smiled softly, remembering how Wicked had been at first. But then she saw the boys across the street begin to walk down from the end of their alleyway. With an angry, betrayed gasp, she recognized the boy leading them...


	11. Chapter Eleven: Alleyway

**Chapter Eleven: Alleyway**

The ex-Brooklyn now Queens boy turned and motion towards his boys. Nicknamed Ill-fated Assasin for his involvement in the deaths of prominent figures in both the old Brooklyn gang, and in the Queens gang back when Trigger had first come into power. Assasin was only half an inch under six feet, and he liked to think that his 150 pounds was all muscle. A smirk drew across his face as he reached the head of the alley and saw that Wicked (who's old name had been Win) stood just across the street. _This time that goon'll see who's boss..._ he thought bitterly.  
He waved back to his boys to follow him, and right as he was about to charge Wicked, a voice suddenly hissed at him out of nowhere.

"Alibi..." it called. "Remembah me's Alibi? Sweet... Innocent... Young... Remembah me's? Da lil goil you killed!"

Assasin's eyes grew wide with both surprise and fear. He hadn't been called Alibi in four years. At least not by anyone who'd know what he'd done... "I'se nevah killed a goil! 'Specially no lil one," he shouted to nothingness. He had no idea where the voice was coming from.

"True...I'se not exactly a goil. But you did kill me. Crushed me... An' yas have killed goils befoah... 'Membah Felicity Bates?"

Assasin gulped and licked his lips. Suddenly he felt a breath on the back of his neck and turned to face his clearly puzzled group of boys.

"Toin around," a voice right behind his head said in a deadly whisper. It was a different voice than the first one.

Assasin did as the voice commanded and came face-to-face with someone he'd helped assassinate. "Spot!" he screamed out in fear and surprise. "How...What...But...You'se dead!"

The boy before him rolled his eyes. "I'se not Spot foah one t'ing. An' foah annudah, you'se need ta get yer eyes checked if you'se t'ought da path ta Wicked was cleah."

"Who are ya den?" Assasin demanded, pissed at the boy for scaring him.

"Yer woist nightmare. Dat's who." The boy slammed his fist full into Assasin's face. "Or you'se can call me Watson," he yelled as he began fighting the group.

Across the street, a girl with blackish-brown hair and a grin that could knock you off your feet was approaching Wicked when she saw the commotion in the alley. Her grin widened as she saw the odds. One on five. But suddenly she began scowling as she realized the five were Queens boys. _Oh d'ose doity rotten... I'll show dem!_ she though viciously and launched herself across the street and into the fight.

Assasin and the other Queens boys had the boy who called himself Watson cornered, and Assasin was reaching for his brass knuckles when a new fist suddenly collided with his skull. Screaming in fury he spun around to find himself face-to-face with a girl he knew had the name Alleyway, and was one of Manhattan's premier fighters (and gamblers), even though she was a little on the short side. Alleyway was known for being tough and never giving up, no matter what. She was also known for going against all odds, no matter how rough.

A brass-knuckled hand suddenly collided with the back of his head, making his vision lose focus for a moment. One kick to the back of his knees was all it took for the boy named Watson to bring Assasin down. Together, he and Alleyway took at the rest of the gang before Watson disappeared into thin air before Alley could even congratulate him on a good fight.


	12. Chapter Twelve: She's Back

**Chapter Twelve: She's Back**

Jack Kelly shook his head after he heard the first news that night. It had been from Alleyway, Racetrack's sister, and she'd told him about a fight with some Queens boys and a mysterious strange newsie out in Central Park.

Alleyway gave a laugh at Jack's reaction as she dealed out a new hand of cards to Racetrack, Bumlets, Snoddy and Skittery. "What's da mattah, Cowboy? Sad you'se ain't gotten in on da fightin' action yet?"

Jack shook his head at her and rolled his eyes. "No...It's just...Wells...Strange new newsies? I'se gotta worry 'bout it. What'd ya say 'e looked like again?"

Alleyway rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed with him, but her grinned betrayed her. "I'se'd say 'e's 'bout my height, wit' blue-gray-green eyes, an' eiddah brown a blonde haiah. I'se nevah got a good look. An' 'e's real tough. Gots brass knuckles an' everthin'. An' I t'ink 'e had a cane. D'ough, 'e ran away so fast aftah da fight was ovah dat I'se nevah got a good look at 'im."

Jack nodded and turned towards the door as a rather exhausted Specs tumbled through it. He rushed over to their newly arrived friend, and immediately pulled Specs off to talk in a different room. Alleyway just shrugged it off and continued to play cards with Racetrack and Co. before she finally went back to Central Park to sleep.

In the other room, Jack was informed by Specs that Spot's sister had left to come back to New York according to one of her bunkmates, but he didn't know when she'd arrived, or where she'd go after that. Jack was distraught, but it seemed that his wonderings had been confirmed. The fighter in the alley with Alley had been Criss-Cross, the mighty heiress of Brooklyn.

The next morning Alleyway woke in the Central Park Lodging House to more whispers of a new newsie in the lodging house. This time they were questions, and wonderings. Their newest male member, Criss-Cross Watson, who preferred Watson as opposed to his first name had come in after everyone, and was already back out the door as the sun was rising.

At the name Criss-Cross, Alley's ears had perked up. In times now gone, a girl newsie (who was often easily mistaked for a boy) by the name of Criss-Cross Kat Watson had been her best friend and sole conspiritor. The two had shared many a secret, but then Criss-Cross had been forced to run again from whatever it was she was running from. It hadn't been until recently, with the death of Spot Conlon, that Alley had finally understood what.

Wondering if maybe it was the same Criss-Cross, Alleyway quickly threw on a pair of dark green pants with matching dark green suspenders, and a cream colored white shirt that laced in the front. She tied the laces loosly, not worried about propriety. She had men's underwear on underneath anyway. Shoving a charcoal-colored cabby hat onto her and shoving her feet into a pair of dark brown boots, she raised off, pausing only on the steps of the lodging house to tie her laces.

Thinking of the first place she knew she'd find Criss-Cross at this morning, she rushed down the street to the Journal's Central Park distribution office. It was the nearest D.C., and Criss-Cross had never cared what paper she'd sold for. She'd sell anything from the New York World to the Sun.

When Alleyway arrived at the D.C., she was slightly our of breath, but a grin lit her face as she saw a lone newsie lounging against the gates of the not-yet-open distribution office. She was surprised when she realized that it was the same person she had fought with yesterday in the alley. She recognized the kid, even though the stranger was dressed in a different shirt and pants, but the demeanor and expression gave it away.

The bell clanged for the second time that morning, and the gates surged open as the other newsies came rushing down the street, their gossiping causing them to be late.

They were all surprised to see the new newsie named Watson there, and their surprise turned to one of shock as the watched him order his papers.

"Two hun'erd papes" he said, dropping two 50 cent coins into the palm of the distribution worker. A look of shock anda gasp ran through all the Central Park newsies queued up behind him. The worker balked and shook his head to say "no". But Watson only responded in a slightly threatening tone, "You'se should give me da papes I'se paid foah, a else I'se'll go take me business ta da Woild."

The worker immediately complied, not wanting to lose such big business for Hearst. The other newsies gaped as Watson tucked 200 papes into a bag slung over his shoulder, and started towards the gate.

Alleyway hurriedly bought her 100 papers and ran after the newcomer, her grin growing. She cut off Watson at the end of the street, and said in a voice full of glee"Criss-Cross! I'se can' believe it's you! An' don' deny it. It's you'se. An' you'se knowin' it. Foist a fight! Then two hun'erd papes an' a t'reat ta go ta da competition if da woikah didn' comply! It could only be da great Criss-Cross Kat!"

She jumped up and hugged her friend around the neck, her grin growing bigger as her friend hugged her fiercely back.

A/N: Hey all! Wow! That's a lot to take in right now! lol Anyway, first off, I sent a casting call out to the NML (Newsies Mailing List) but thought I'd offer it up to you all here! So if you want to join in on it, fill out the form below and send it to If not, PLEASE REVIEW! (A little note on the form, please fill it out in third person, and include your name in the email as I'd like to be able to acknowledge you as the character owner!)

Name: 

Nickname: 

Age: 

Appearance (including clothes): 

Personality: 

Loyalty (Manhattan or Queens): 

Background: 

Habits (smoking, drinking, gambling, etc.): 

Hobbies: 

Likes: 

Dislikes: 

Any special talents: 

Guy/Girl (Wicked, Alley andTrigger are taken, everyone else -including Disney's newsies-is fair game, and please list a the top three you'd prefer): 1. 

2. 

3. 

Anything else I should know: 

Are you opposed to me changing anything? (I'll try not to change anything, and if I do it will only be minor): 

Are you opposed to your character being killed, injured, insulted, etc: 

Are you opposed to your character being violent or cussing: 

Anything you're uncomfortable with me doing with your character: 

AIM/Email: 


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Outwest Cafe

A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, nor any of their characters. I'd also like to thank Bittah for her character Bittah, and Kimmy Schroeder for her character Spunk! Happy reading! Please review! Criss-Cross

**Chapter Thirteen: Outwest Cafe**

Alleyway and Criss-Cross sat in the Outwest cafe (Central Park's version of Tibby's), eating lunch together. Together, they had managed to sell their three hundred papers early, and had beaten the lunch-crowd. Criss-Cross thought the cafe's name was a joke on her, after she had told Alleyway about being out in Colorado.

She'd taken off her dark-gray cabby hat, and her long dark-blonde hair fell in a wave to her waist, while her old hat lay on the table. Alley was astonished at how gorgeous Criss-Cross could look when she just let her hair down.

"Yas look goigeous wit' yer haiah down," she commented, voicing her thoughts allowed. Criss-Cross gave a faint blush and smiled softly across the table at her best friend.

"T'anks, but you'se prettiah," she responded, causing her best friend to turn absolutely crimson. In truth, they were both gorgeous. Each had their own distinct beauty. Alleyway's was in her million-cent (as her brother, Racetrack, put it) grin, and her rather large bosom. Criss-Cross's was in the quiet solitude and secretiveness. In her nearly immortal-seeming ways.

"So'se," Criss-Cross questioned, lighting up a cigarette, "you'se got a guy 'round heah?"

Following suit, Alleyway lit up her own as her winning grin lit her face once more. "Yeah, I'se got me da same one I'se had back in Brooklyn t'ree yeahs ago, befoah 'e decided ta come live closah ta wheah me roots was."

A smirk -not unlike the kind Alleyway had often seen lighting Spot Conlon's face- set itself into Criss-Cross's features as she thingyed an eyebrow at her slightly-younger friend. "Win?" she asked, the smirk leaving traces in her voice.

"'e's goin' by Wicked now," Alleyway responded, chewing on the end of her cigarette.

As Criss-Cross smiled good-naturedly at her, and looked over her shoulder with a questioning look as she saw someone drawing near to the door of the cafe, with an obvious intention of coming in. The smile vanished as she recognized the tall form of Manhattan leader Jack Kelly. Leaning over the table, she said quietly, "Wells, dere's me cue ta leave. It's been good catchin' up wit' yas!"

Alleyway peered over her shoulder, and turned back to Criss-Cross with a puzzled expression in her dark hazel eyes. Only, her friend had disappeared, leaving only a 50 cent piece and some dirty dishes in her place.

Just as she heard the back door swing shut, the front door swung open, and in sauntered Jack Kelly. "Alleyway," he said with a nod to his friend's younger sister, before scanning the restaurant, his eyes searching for something he obviously could not find, for after a moment, he sat down across from her in the seat that Criss-Cross had vacated only moments before.

Shoving her hat back onto her head, Criss-Cross glanced up and down the alley she found herself in. She wasn't completely familiar with the dingy, small space, but any alley felt like home to a street kid. Setting out towards the street, her thoughts silently cursing her luck. It was her second day back in New York, and already Jack Kelly had been alerted to her presence. _Why's 'e always have ta find out wheah I'se am?_ she thought bitterly.

She'd never really liked Kelly that much. Personally she'd thought he was just a stuck-up jerk, but he'd been Spot's friend for a long time, so she'd managed to get along with him. _Even d'ough 'e's a stuck up joik like me faddah wit' nothin' bettah ta do dan act like 'is "royal" ass is so high. I'se bet 'e wouldn't even get hoit fallin' off a his low royal poich...What da yas wanna bet 'e don' even have a goil, 'less 'e's still wit' Kit Kat...She's gotta be an idiot ta be wit'-_

A sneering face suddenly cut off her thoughts fast. In her fury at Kelly, Criss-Cross hadn't even noticed that she'd been surrounded by Queens kids. Pulling her cap down hard to hide her face, she took a finally drag on her cigarette and flicked it away, causing it to land at the feet of a tough-looking girl with shoulder-length blonde hair sticking out from under a charcoal colored cabby hat not unlike her own.

The girl was not much taller than Criss-Cross herself, but her air demanded that she be treated with respect, because she was one hell of a tough broad. A small smirk spread across Criss-Cross's face as she got the inkling that the girl might be quite gorgeous under the baggy clothing she wore.

Her smirk grew as she recognized Alibi to the girl's right-hand side, and another ex-Brookie named Spunk to her left. Criss-Cross remembered that Spunk was half a year older than herself, but had been in Brooklyn but two years before Trigger came into power and she'd gone over to Queens to be one of his servants.

Still smirking, Criss-Cross looked around at the others. A few seemed familiar, but one face thoroughly shocked her. It was the face of Advantage, who had been Spot's right-hand man and her surrogate older brother. The sight of him stepping forward as the leader of the group shocked her even more, and sent her into such a fit of rage that she feared she'd never return. _What's 'e t'inkin'! Betrayin' Spot an' Brooklyn! If I find out 'e had anythin' ta do wit' 'is death I'se sweah I'se'll..._

"I'se been hearin' t'ings from lil boids dat you'se a good fightah," he said, his dark eyes serious in his nicely tanned face. Criss-Cross's edge nearly melted as she saw that he'd grown even more handsome in their years apart. _dn...Dat boy's lookin' good..._ she caught herself thinking, cursing her weakness for handsome newsies.

"Wells, you'se been heahin' correctly. I'se da best dn fightah most a dis city's evah seen. 'Less you'se still countin' dat against Spot Conlon..." she replied lazily, though, with her last statement her voice grew harsh, and a threatening light flashed in her eyes.

"You'se wanna test dt against me boys an' goils?" Advantage responded.

"Dat boy Watson'll nevah agree ta dat Abyss!" Alibi stated with a taunting air to the guy in the middle. _So'se, it's a fight dey want...Shoulda known. It's not like dey woulda wanted ta take me's out ta tea!_ she scolded herself.

"It's a fight you'se'd be wantin' den," she stated. It wasn't a question, she knew what they wanted.

"We'se win, den you'se join us, we'se lose, an' we'se'll leave you'se alone foah da time bein'," Ad answered back.

"Wells, dat don' seem like fair endin's, but oh wells, you'se da one's dat killed Spot, so'se, I'se fine wit' fightin' you'se..."

With that she launched into action, not even giving them a second to get ready. Ramming her shoulder into Advantage's gut, she spun, not even watching him hit the ground. Alibi was already ready to punch her with a set of brass knuckles, but Criss-Cross was too fast for the one-beaten newsie. Running her fist straight into his nose, she whipped her knee up into his groin while turning to her next target.

Spunk had out a knife, but apparently still hadn't mastered fighting with it. Grabbing the other girl's wrist, Criss-Cross clenched and twisted hard, causing the other girl to yelp in pain and drop the blade. Landing a punch to the girl's stomach, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder and gave a muffled scream. Reaching back, she ripped the knife from her shoulder and spun to face the girl who's feet the cigarette had landed out.

Criss-Cross made to attack the girl, her actions slightly slowed by her shoulder, but she was just met with a jab to the nose by Advantage, who had gotten back on his feet. Pain flaring through her face, she kicked out at the girl, only to find her foot catching air. With a diliberate motion, the girl had moved back a step, causing Criss-Cross to lose her balance.

In her moment of faltering to get it back, Advantage (who had earned his nickname for both his skill in battle, and his skill at selling papers) and the girl jumped her, dragging the pint-sized fireball to the ground. A sickening thud rang through the alley as her skull met the cobblestones, and she hissed in pain. Driving her fist hard into the other girl's stomach, she rolled to her feet, the world spinning slightly. Taking a step back as Advantage came at her, she suddenly found herself in backed into a corner with no way out.

She swung at Ad as the other girl's knife sliced her left arm. As she faltered slightly, Advantage kicked at her knees, while Spunk back-handed her, causing her over-sized cap to fly off.

"Ya killed 'im," she whispered as a look of shock and horror came over Ad's face.

"Bittah!" he cried, pulling the other girl back as Criss-Cross's own blade flashed near her throat.

"Ya kill 'im!" she shouted at Ad as he turned on heel, dragging a surprised group after him. Criss-Cross screamed it another time, the last word turning into a sob as she fell hard against the wall, exhausted both emotionally and physically, as a worried-looking Jack Kelly darted down the alley towards her. By the time he reached her tired form, she was out cold against the wall, blood flowing openly from both her shoulder and her upper-arm.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Kattie

A/N: Okay, once again, I do not own Newsies, or any of their characters, however, I do own all others unless otherwise stated. Also, a big thanks to Bittah for pushing me to write! lol That's two chapters in one night now! Anyway, this next chapter's another memory. So…Happy reading! And please review!

**Chapter Fourteen: Kattie**

_Win ushered Katherine into the Brooklyn Lodging House, and up a flight of stairs to the bunkroom, where a couple other Brooklyn newsies sat around, most getting ready for their day of selling papers. Alibi had disappeared down the hallway, and soon arrived in the room following two slightly older boys, one of whom was only 4 inches taller than her._

The two new boys sat on the bunch across from her, regarding her intently. The shorter of the two carried a gold-tipped cane, and had a dark-colored cabby hat pulled down slightly over his face so that his features were hidden, though, Katherine could see that he had dark-blonde hair of a color almost exactly the same as her own. Then she noticed a peculiar key hanging around his neck, and a slightly puzzled expression came over his small face.

"What's yer name kid?" he asked her, clearly regarding her from under his cap. Being the difficult girl that she was, she lowered her head slightly so that her face was completel hidden by the hood she still wore on her head.

"Tell me yer's foist, an' den maybe I'se'll tell yas mine," she replied defiantly. Frisk had taught her never to yield to someone who appeared to be of higher power than her. Because even though they acted like they were, they probably weren't.

"Kid, maybe no one's clued yas in heah yet, but I'se da leadah 'round dese pawts, an' you'se bettah stawt talkin' befoah I'se soak yas," he snapped, cluing her in on his short temper.

"An' if I'se refuse ta listen ta yas?" she asked defiantly, lifting her face and shoving back her hood as the boy grabbed the front of her dress and hauled her face an inch away from his own, clearly ready to snap at her, but he stopped mid his first word as they both took in a sharp gasp. As her eyes widened, Katherine saw them mirrored in the boy's identical face. Had they're size and age difference not given it away, someone could have easily mistaken them for twins.

Releasing the front of her dress, he pushed pulled his hat off and sat back down as everyone in the room fell silent, staring at the two. After a few minutes of deathly quiet in which everyone hardly breathed because of the tension in the air, Katherine and the boy both began to chuckle.

Spitting into his palm, the boy held out his hand to Katherine, a small grin on his face. "I'm Spot. Spot Conlon, an', well, I'se da leadah 'round heah."

Katherine spat into her own dirty palm and shook his hand, introducing herself, "I'se Kat'rine Conlon. But most peoples jus' calls me's Kat if dey's friend's wit' me."

"Wells Kattie, looks like ouah paths jus' criss-crossed. You'se must be da sistah I'se heard rumors dat I'se got. Well den, welcome ta Brooklyn!"

With that he lead her off, showing her around the lodging house, and giving her a pair of pants and suspenders that actually fit. A week after she arrived, he also gave her a key like the one he wore on a black leather strap. But instead of putting it around her neck, he tied it in an "X" over her left hand, with the key hanging under her wrist, saying that it respresented her nickname. It was a criss-cross. From there on out Katherine Conlon became known as Criss-Cross Kat, a name she happily accepted in adoration of her older brother, who gave her his own nickname for her that was private, and it turned out to be the first name he ever called her by...and the last...Kattie.

A/N: Okay, this is just a side-note, but "Kattie" is not pronounced like "Katie" it's actually pronounced like Cat-Tea. Mmkay! I think that's it. Oh! Wait! I'm still in need of some more characters, so, if you still wanna reply to my CC, the form's at the end of chapter 12, and just email it to me a Anyway, please review! Criss-Cross

**Shout Outs:**

**Bittah:** Hey. Yeah. It does go a little fast, but I'm mainly just trying to really set down the plot right now, I plan to go back and add in details, etc. But I hope you like it! And thank ya! I'm glad that people actually like it. I was worried that it'd be a flop. Anyway, I'm anxious to see what you thought of your character's debut in the last chapter!

**Angelfish:** Glad you like it! lol If you wanna be in the story then send in your CC info! The CC's still open, at least through Friday. I'm still in need of some more Queens characters. lol And you've read the story, so that'll give you an advantage over some others. Anyway, glad you like it! And you'll have to read to find out if she does! wicked laugh

**Alleyway: **Hey goil. Yup, I have. lol And now even more than you've read before. Glad you love it! Hope you'll read on!

Spot: _Read! Read! Read! A I'll soak yas!_

Now Spot! What did I say about being nice to the readers?

Spot: _Fine…Fine…But dey won't read den!_

They'll read if they want to. whispers to you Please excuse my brother, he's a tad on the rude side sometimes…Please review! Criss-Cross


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Bittah's Abyss

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor do I own any of its characters. The ones I own are Trigger Jones, Criss-Cross, Alleyway, Wicked, Alibi, and Advantage. Bittah belongs to my friend Bittah, and Spunk belongs to Spunk.

A/N: Yes. A chapter devoted just to Bittah and Advantage. And no, it's not just because Bittah wanted her character in this chapter. It's because she read my mind that her character would be in here. I was already planning to have this chapter devoted to Advantage and Bittah. Anyway, I hope you liked it. And PLEASE review!

Spot: _Yes! You'se gotta review foah me sakes! I'se dead an' everythin'! Won'tcha review foah a dead boy!_

Criss-Cross

**Chapter Fifteen: Bittah's Abyss**

Advantage sat around the lodging house in a rather foul mood that night, remembering the first time he'd ever met Criss-Cross, and little did he know, so was the unconscious 14 year-old. Advantage had always been Spot's right-hand man, and even the day that they'd first met Criss-Cross, he and Spot had been planning their borough war with the Bronx that had started a week before she'd shown up.

With a small sigh, he remembered how he'd later laughed thinking about the pint-sized fireball standing up defiantly to the more-than-slightly scary Spot. Now she was taking on bigger, scarier things. Such as, Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx. A seething rage suddenly filling his gut, he turned to rest his head against the window of the boy's bunkroom, right as "King Triggah" walked in.

"Hey Abyss, I'se in needa some help, a'ight?" Trigger asked, his tone slightly drunken.

_What da fucking hell does 'e want now!_ Advantage thought angrily. "What is i' Triggah?" he asked, his tone showing his obvious annoyance at the hideously-mannered leader.

"Wells, yas see, dere's dis goil I'se been wantin' ta get wit', an' I'se can' seem ta do it wit' all a da guys an' goils heah on my back. So'se, day as t'ink yas can hold da foit down foah da night?" Trigger replied, completely oblivious his "subject's" wish to throttle him.

"Fine, fine," Advantage muttered, afraid to talk louder for fear that his extreme dislike for Trigger might show. Not that Trigger would notice, but he still didn't want it to happen. Trigger clapped him on the shoulder, and with a drunken "thanks" disappeared out of the room, and a minute later he heard the lodging house door open and slam, and a figure walked down the street.

As soon as Trigger was out of sight, Advantage began cursing him. Kicking or slamming his fists into anything he could, he decided to go for a walk. Shoving his cap on his head, he stalked out of the room and down the stairs, where a rather startled Bittah sat bandaging Spunk's injured wrist after their earlier fight with Criss-Cross.

"Where're ya goin'?" she shouted after him, finishing tying off the bandage the held Spunk's wrist in a tight bind.

"On a walk!" he snapped back at her, not even caring as Bittah's eyes flashed with a twang of hurt beneath the gray newsie hat she always wore. He stormed straight out the door, not even pausing as the cold night air of a New York April night hit him full on. In fact, he relished in it slightly, feeling his rage-heated skin prickle and tingle with the sudden cool.

He had made it halfway down the street when a harsh hand grabbed his upper-arm and spun him around. Coming face-to-face with Bittah, he was hit with guilt for snapping at her. Putting a hand out to cup her cheek, she swatted it away, her facial expression giving him a slightly-pissed-off, mainly just serious look.

"What was all dat about!" she said in a tone that said "tell me or I'll pull a Conlon on you". But Advantage just shrugged and attempted to disentangle himself from her hand on his arm, but her grip only tightened until it had became semi-painful. "What was dat about?" she asked again.

Once more he shrugged, head down, and responded a simple, "Wha' was all what about?"

"What da hell's wrong wit' you'se!" she said furiously, letting go of his arm to grab hold of his shoulders tightly, her knuckles going white with the fury of her grip. He winced slightly, but she continued on anyway, "You'se dragged us out durin' da middle a a fight! Den's you'se in a foul state all day! An' now you'se go stoimin' outta da lodgin' house! What da hell is going on wit' you!"

"It's nothin'. It's jus'…Wells…" he sighed and looked up into her face for a minute, his eyes searching her features for some hint mercy, and silently pleading with her to understand. After a moment he could stand no longer to look into her face, his shame was so great. Staring down at the ground, he scuffed his dark brown boots in the dirt.

Loosening her grip as her rage subsided, Bittah regarded her boy with a slight sadness. She could tell that something was tearing at the inside of one of the few people she actually cared for in New York, and it tore at her too. After a minute of studying his down-turned face, she released his shoulders completely, and slipping her hand into his, she started walking down the road, pulling him after her.

The two walked in silence for a few moments before Bittah pulled him off to the side of the street, and sat him on a barrel, giving him a sweet smile as she took one for herself.

"What's wrong Abyss?" she asked softly, her expressions truly showing her concern for him, and her want to know. She shoved her hat up higher so that he could see the sincere look in her currently gray eyes.

With a small sigh, he muttered "Da name's Advantage…"

It hadn't been meant for her to hear, but apparently she did. The light in her eyes changed them to a soft blue-green color as she gave him a slightly puzzled, yet warm smile. "What?" she asked.

"It's nothin'…" he quickly stated, looking far off into the distance.

"It's not nothin' if you'se said it. You'se jus' told me yer name's Advantage…"

"Wells…" he sighed, staring up at the sky for a moment before he regarded her with heavy, serious eyes. "It is…" Giving a large sigh, he began to explain. "Dat's pawt a what all dat back in da lodgin' house was about. An' what taday's been all about. See'se, I'se always been a Brooklyn newsie. Evah since I'se around t'ree. Me best friend, an' bruddah was Spot Conlon. Da foimah leadah a Brooklyn.

"I'se seen jus' about every stage a Brooklyn's history. From da great Bronx-Brooklyn war, tad a strike. But d'ose is jus' da beginnin'. I'se also seen da t'ings dat went on in da heawts a da Brooklyn kids, 'cludin' Spot's…" At this his voice cracked slightly with a threatening sob.

"You'se know da goil we fought taday?" he asked softly.

Bittah nodded, remarking, "She seemed real young. But she fought good."

Advantage nodded, a slight smile coming to his face. "I'se taught her how ta fight…Well, me an' Spot did. Ya see, dat goil's Spot's lil sistah, Criss-Cross. Which meant she was practically me sistah too. She's only foiteen. Half a yeah youngah dan ouah Spunk."

Bittah nodded again, "Our Spunk's too young too. But she's always wantin' ta fight, so, I'se let her."

Advantage nodded in agreement, and continued on with his story. "Wells, Criss-Cross was 7 an' a half when we'se foist met 'er. She's was originally from Queens. Wheah, up until she was 10, Frisk Bates had ruled. Now, Spot an' Frisk gots along fine. D'ough, dey did compete some. But Spot was fine wit' Criss-Cross been friends wit' da Queens newsies. Up 'til Frisk was found dead one day, an' no one knows how. But den Triggah took ovah Queens, an' Spot became furious. 'E an' Triggah had always been enemies, an' dey were 'til Triggah had Spot moidahed.

"Now, Criss-Cross was still friends wit' da Queens newsies dat she's had known, an' she was real close ta one name Chris. An' one day, righ' aftah Spunk suddenly became a Queens newsie, Spot's t'ought dat it was 'is sistah's doin', so'se, 'e ran her outta Brooklyn, an' kept her runnin' foah da last 4 yeahs…"

Bittah tugged a stray lock of her blonde hair behind her ear as she shook her head slowly at his story. "Dat's horrible. A bruddah runnin' 'is own sistah away?" She clucked her tongue, and gave her head another shake.

Advantage nodded his agreement, and said, "Spot was nevah one ta t'ink rationally until 'e hoid she's gone ta Colahradah. I'se nevah t'ought I'd see her again. An' den suddenly runnin' into her taday, it shocked me ta me bones. 'Specially since we soaked her good…" His voice cracked with worry as he asked, "God, do ya t'ink she'll be a'ight?"

Bittah didn't know what to say, so, instead, she went with her impulse and planted her lips full on his, stopping the kiss only when she no longer had any air left. Panting slightly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the lodging house, intending to give him a little solace to get him through the night. But she didn't realize that by just listening, she already had. And as he stopped her at the door to the lodging house to thank her for it, he stared into her cool, now deep green eyes, and saw a deep abyss of emotions dancing behind his girl's tough façade. With a grin, he kissed her softly, and then allowed her to pull him inside and up the stairs to the bunkroom.

**Shouts Outs:**

**Bittah:** Hey! Glad you liked the last two chapters. Lol You so completely read my mind on the fact that your character's in this chapter. I hope I got her right. You said she's a sweetheart when you get past the touch façade. And who better to get past it then her boy Advantage? Lol Anyway, hope I didn't skrew up too bad on her. And I'll write more when you write more! (Or maybe even if you don't. teehee!)

**Angelfish: **Hey. I'm glad you sent in your character! I'm def using her! Lol I was hoping to get her in in this chapter, but it ended up not working out. But I'm planning on getting her in soon. Lol And hopefully you won't have to wait long for the next section! Lol I'll probably post at least once tomorrow. And at least 3 times this weekend assuming my 'rents don't drag me off somewhere without internet and computer for this glorious three days off. Anyway, hope you liked this new chapter!

Spot: _Now review peoples!_

Spot! What did I say about bein' rude!

Criss-Cross


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Runaway

A/N: Yup! Another chapter! Hope you like it. lol I think it's pretty good. Anyway, here's my disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters. Also, Spunk belongs to Spunk, Gypsy to Gip, Kit Kat belongs to Kit Kat, Marsh belongs to Myya Conlon, Air belongs to Air, Runaway belongs to Runaway, Jittery belongs to Jittery, and Whisper belongs to Whisper. Wow. Okay, that was long!

**Chapter Sixteen: Runaway**

Criss-Cross opened her clouded eyes with a groan. She felt weak and ached in more than a few places. At the sound of nearby breathing, she turned her head and came eye-to-eye with the deep brown eyes of the late Spot Conlon's girl.

"Runaway?" she murmured softly, undoubtably surprised to see the girl.

A smirk hit the asian girl's face as she beholded the younger girl with sad eyes. "Yeah. 'S me. Da one an' only Runaway."

A smirk came to Criss-Cross's face too as she rolled onto her side, and sat up, wincing. As she brushed some stray strands of hair out of her face, she realized that something was wrong. Grabbing a lock of her hair, a scowl graced her thin features. Someone had cut her hair short! It was not chin-length, and curled slightly at the ends.

Runaway's smirk widened as she saw the horrified look in Criss-Cross's eyes. Her hair had not been that short since when she'd first met Spot. With a glower, Criss-Cross realized that her hair wasn't the only thing that was wrong. Looking down, she found that she was wearing a women's nightshift instead of her normal men's underwear. Glowering, she met Runaway's sad gaze with a small growl.

"Hey. Don' look at me's," Runaway said, holding up her hands, "I'se not da one who did it..."

Criss-Cross snorted and rolled her eyes. "Well den who did?" she snapped, sounding exactly like you'd expect the sister of Brooklyn's King to sound, superior, tough, and rough.

"Kit Kat," Runaway said with an exhausted, slightly saddened sigh.

"Jack's goil?" Criss-Cross asked with a groan. Runaway nodded, rolling her eyes at the thought Kit Kat's need for neatness in the boarding house.

Searching around for her clothes, or at least something that wasn't girly to change into, Criss-Cross noticed Runaway's sad eyes watching her with a longing expression. Walking over, she gave the other girl's hand a squeeze, and said softly, "I'se sorry about Spot. I'se truly am. An' I feel yer pain. Yas weren' da only one who loved 'im…"

Runaway brushed her hand away, and turned her attention to a cot at the other end of the Manhattan infirmary room. A current hung around it, and Criss-Cross could hear someone moving around the bed, tending to whoever lay on it.

"Who's down dere?" she asked quietly.

"Blink," Runaway replied. "'E got injured in a fight, an' 'e's in a pretty bad condition. Marsh an' Air are consolin' Whispah. An' Jitt's out gettin' a doctah."

Criss-Cross nodded her understanding. She knew all of the girls from her stay in Manhattan during the strike, right before she'd left for Colorado. She could easily see the loyal Marsh and kind-hearted Air consoling the sweet, quiet Whisper, who was Blink's girl. Jittery (Jitts for short) had always been the best athlete amongst the Manhattan girls, but she'd never been too fond of female competition, so Criss-Cross had no problems with her being the doctor-runner. But then her mind came to rest on the last Manhattan girl that she'd gotten to know, the quiet, very secretive Gypsy, more commonly know as Gip.

"Wheah's Gip?" she asked Runaway. But a voice from over her shoulder answered her.

"I'se right heah," Gip said, carrying in an armful of bandage and a pail of water that had soaking rags in it. "Hey Criss-Cross. How's ya?"

Criss-Cross grinned at Manhattan's one and only blue-eyed gypsy. "Hey yerself. I'se okay, despite da fact dat I'se a lil beat up an' in need a some real clothes. How's you?"

"Exhausted an' sick a dis damn fightin'," Gip answered, an angry look in her deep blue eyes. Criss-Cross walked with her to the sheet and drew it back so that Gip could easily step into the private nook it created. A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw the horribly-beaten Kid Blink lying nearly dead on the cot.

"Oh God…" she said softly, looking up towards the heavens that she normally didn't believe in. _What'd God evah do foah me?_ she'd often wondered, but now she thought a silent prayer for her beaten friend.

"'E's doin' real bad," Kit Kat said softly to Criss-Cross, her voice cracking slightly and tears showing in her hazel eyes. She'd always been one to be caring and concerned. She stood by all her friends, and was always ready to lend support to those who needed it.

"Wheah's da fuckin' doctah?" Marsh said, storming into the room, how upset she was clearly showing on her slim face. Her dark green eyes revealed that the incident was tearing her apart inside.

"'E'll be heah soon, Marsh," Gip said softly. "It's only been twenty minutes since Jitts left, an' da office is all da way in Central Pawk. She's'll be back soon d'ough. She's da fast runnah outta all a us."

The door to the infirmary opened again, and Criss-Cross peered around the curtain to see Jack, Dutchy, Specs, and Mush enter the room. Seeing Jack brought a large glare over her face, and she clenched her fists tight.

"How's 'e doin'?" Mush asked, genuinely concerned. She remembered that Mush and Blink had always been good friends. Constantly joking together and they could often be found selling near one another.

"Not so good," Kit Kat responded. "I'se afraid if da doctah doesn' get heah soon, we may lose 'im."

Jack's eyes grew grim and he nodded solemnly as Dutchy collected his girl Marsh and took her back downstairs to continue consoling Whisper. Specs had gone up to Gip and was holding his silently crying girl in his arms, his expression one of both love and grief. Criss-Cross knew how it felt to think you were going to lose someone. When she'd been nine, a cart had run over Spunk, leaving her in a bad state, and the whole lodging house worried.

Mush had taken a seat by the window, and was holding his tired head in his hands, clearly biting back tears. Jack had given Kit Kat a small hug, and after chucking her softly under the chin, he turned his attention finally to Criss-Cross, who had taken over Gip's place and was silently cleaning Blink's wounds with a wet rag, trying to clean off as much blood as she could.

"Criss-Cross…" he said in a commanding tone that she would have none of.

"What da ya want Kelly?" she snapped. "Ta mess with what it's doin' some moah, a are ya gonna let me help take care a yer friend heah befoah 'e dies?"

Jack cleared his throat, slightly taken aback by her cruel tone. "Let Gip do dat. She's plannin' on doin' it anyway. You an' me needs ta talk."

Criss-Cross angrily dropped her rag in the bucket, causing it to splash some water on the floor, and standing to her full height she glared angrily at the pompous Manhattan leader. Everyone looked up and over at her, fearing she was going to blow her top.

"Kelly…" she said, her voice trembling with anger. "I'se not one a yer newsies. I'se not anybody's newsie. Ya got dat? An' I ain' about ta let you'se walk all ovah me. Now let me do what I'se doin' heah, an' den, when I'se done, den we can talk? A'ight? Cuz I'se ain' in da mood ta deal wit' ya righ' now Jack Kelly. An' if I'se wasn't on da opposite side a Blink from ya, an' concoined about Blink, you'se'd be dead righ' now."

Jack nodded, his slight fear of the Conlon girl showing on his face. Turning, he walked out, soon followed by Mush who apparently couldn't stand being around the dying Blink anymore, and within a few moments, the crying Gip and Specs had left the room too.

Sighing, Criss-Cross ran blood-streaked hands through her hair, and remembered that Runaway was still sitting out in the uncurtained part of the infirmary. Handing her rag to Kit Kat, she wiped her hands on the nightshift and stepped around the curtain, where she came nose-to-nose with Runaway, who threw a pair of pants, a shirt, and men's underwear into her arms, gave her a meaningful look, and walked out saying, "You an' me Criss-Cross, let's go wait foah Jitts an' da doctah." But she walked out before Criss-Cross could reply.

However, Criss-Cross knew her plan, and silently slipping into the clothes Runaway had thrown at her, she slipped her feet into her boots that lay at the end of the cot, and then slipped silently out the infirmary window, knowing that Runaway was meaning for her to get out and run away from the Manhattan Lodging House so that she could get her revenge on her brother's death.

Spot: _I'se getting' avenged! _

Yes Spot, you are, now please don't go on a review tangent when I say "please review all those of you who've read!" this time. lol

Spot: _I'se won't._

Okay good. So, please review all those of you who've read!

**Shout Out: **(note that there's only one this time…how sad…)

**Bittah: **grins Yay! I'm glad you're happy. And that you like my story enough to stay up past 4:30 am to read it! lol Yup yup. All about you and you're boy Advantage. lol And I like to use both sides of people. Especially since Bitter's quite a bit like both Spot and Criss-Cross in a way. (Spot: _Yeah, she's like lil ol' me's.) _lol I just thought it was fun. YAY! I got the eyes right! does happy dance I was a little worried that I would totally mess that part up. And I'm also glad that I just got her right in general. lol I'm curious about that too. lol And I'm the writer! I'll definitely have to incorporate that into the story somehow… Anyway, you must write more on your story! WRITE! WRITE! WRITE LIKE THE WIND! (Spot: _Yeah, yas gotta. Cuz I'se in it! Ha!) _Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! And thanks. I wish I had more reviewers. But oh well… And look for the next chapter probably later today! Since I'm in a writing-type mood! Plus it's the weekend!

Criss-Cross


	17. Chapter Seventeen: SpunkLess

A/N: Yay! Chappie 17! Okay, I was out of the house all day, but I still managed to write both this chappie, and chappie 18! lol Thank goodness for a 2-1/2 to 3 hr car ride! lol Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters. Also, Spunk belongs to Spunk, Bittah belongs to Bittah, Striker belongs to Striker/Angelfish, Ice belongs to Marsh, Skater belongs to Skater, Cards belongs to Cards, Griff belongs to Gip, Tyrant belongs to Air, and Bullet, Skinner, and Valleys all belong to Runaway.

**Chapter Seventeen: Spunk-less**

Spunk was woken by Trigger yelling. She could not make out the words of what he was yelling, nor did she care. Annoyed at her sleep ending so soon, she rolled unto her side and out of her bunk bed. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed and looked around the room at several other tired girls waking too early for their taste.

"Why does 'e always have ta mouth off dis early in da moinin'!" an exasperated girl with light brown hair and bright blue eyes named Skater grumbled. Skater wasn't one you wanted to mess with, and sure as hell didn't want to get on her bad side. She had a hot temper, and could easily become violent. 

"Cuz 'e t'inks 'e owns da woild!" Striker, an ex-Bronx girl said.

"Wells 'e fuckin' don'!" Skater replied, getting mad at Striker for no reason.

"Cool yer heels Skatah," the fifteen year-old named Cards whose bunk was next to Spunk's piped up.

"Go ta hell!" Skater snapped at her, clearly not in the mood. Trigger -who had moved a bunch of his "subjects" (and himself) into the Brooklyn Lodging House to keep all the old Brookies under control- had come in at two in the morning and started mouthing off much as he was now, keeping them all up until three. And now, after only three hours of sleep, the girls were forced up by his shouts.

"Cool it Skatah. We'se don' need a fight goin' on up heah too," Bittah said sternly as she walked into the room. The other girls all knew she'd been with Advantage through the night.

"I'se off ta da bat'room," Spunk said with a stifled yawn. "Anyone else comin'?"

Striker and Cards nodded and gathered their things, and the three walked through the door, leaving Skater and Bittah in the room alone.

"Is dat really safe?" Striker asked.

"Is what really safe?" Cards responded, confused.

"Leavin' Bittah an' Skatah alone in a room togethah when at least one a dem is in a pissy mood?" Striker replied.

Spunk bit her lip but nodded and said, "Yeah. I'se t'ink it's a'ight. I mean, Bittah's good about not soakin' people too bad. An' she can handle herself if Skatah gets violent."

"A'ight," Striker said slowly, "I'se jus' don' want da next time Triggah mouths off ta be at us foah lettin' one a dem kill da uddah."

Spunk laughed and began to drag a brush through her bed-ruffled dark brown hair. _No one wants ta be in da way a Triggah's wrath…_ she thought.

Spunk had first gotten in the way of Trigger's wrath four years earlier, when he had first become Queens's leader. Spunk had been a Brooklyn girl for two years, and had always loved it. She had become friends with Spot Conlon's younger sister Criss-Cross, and had always loved being around the Conlon siblings. But the Trigger had come into power and taken that all away. Using Alibi, he had threatened Spunk into becoming a traitor and being a Queens newsie. Spunk had always hated him for it, and she always would. She even had a long scar on her shoulder to prove it.

Shaking her head, she splashed a handful of cold water onto her face and scrubbed at her tired eyes, trying to wake herself up more.

"Does anyone know what we'se doin' taday?" Cards asked as she came out of a toilet stall.

Striker and Spunk shook their head as a pissed off Skater entered the room. "'E bettah not me 'spectin' us ta fight taday!" she grumbled. "Wit' how lil sleep we'se all got las' nigh'…I'se don' t'ink dere's a single one a us dat could stand a chance in a fight."

Right then the boys began to file into the bathroom, all just as grumbling and mad as the girls were. Several of the boys went straight to their girls side, and couples could be seen exchanging hugs and kisses all over the bathroom. Spunk's own brown-haired boy named Valleys came up to her, a small smile on his face and a loving look in his eyes. _Valleys's da one good t'ing dat's come outta me bein' foiced ta be foah Queens_ she thought as her boy kissed her softly on the lips before turning to talk to Skater's sandy-haired boy named Skinner.

Grinning, Spunk turned to look at Striker who stood with her boyfriend Bullet in a corner. Cards and Ice had already left the bathroom hand-in-hand for the great room downstairs where everyone hung out. Sighing slightly, she shoved her brown cabby hat on her head, shoved her feet into her black shoes and buttoned her navy blue shirt slowly. Trigger had insisted that Manhattan was dress country, not Queens, and thus, Spunk had come to wear a navy blue shirt with brown pants that went only to her knee, and a pair of knee-high gray socks.

She waited as Valleys washed his face and used the toilet, and then the two of them started downstairs with the group, stomachs rumbling slightly in hunger.

"A'ight," Trigger stood, addressing the group of Queens, Bronx, and Brooklyn kids -all under his command- in the great room. "Taday's plan is dis. Bittah, you'se an' Abyss'll take Cards, Skatah, an' Assasin inta da heawt a Manhattan. Find any fight you can. Got dat? Valleys, Griff, an' Skinner, you'se'll take Strikah wit' yas an' go inta Central Pawk. Fight anyone an' everyone you'se can. All a d'ose a you'se fightin' in Manhattan, I'se want dem dead a close to it. Got dat? Now, I'se want Bullet an' Tyrant ta go ta Harlem, see what you'se can do about roundin' up loyalties an' such dere. Spunk, you'se injahed, so'se, you'se'll be wit' me an' Ruckus heah sellin' papes. A'ight, everyone undahstand deir duties! Good! Now get gone!"

The kids all stood slowly and began to get into their assigned groups. A groan came from deep inside Spunk as she wished she could be anywhere but with Trigger and his girl Ruckus, who supposedly was a cousin of the Conlons.

Slowly Spunk stood and said her good-byes with her usual group of Advantage, Bittah, Cards, and Assasin. Cards gave her a quick hug and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Take care a yerself kid, a'ight?" Bittah said in her gruff way.

Don' let Triggah get ta yas, Spunk. 'E's jus' a sonuva btch," Skater said, resting a quick hand on Spunk's shoulder before going off to give Skinner a kiss good-bye and tell him to come back safe. 

She watched as couples wished each other luck and exchanged good-bye kisses and hugs, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. 

"Hang in dere." Valleys's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Foah me. Cuz who knows if I'se'll make it back?" 

Spunk laughed as she hugged him good-bye. "You'se such a pessimist, Vals. You'se'll make it back jus' fine. You'se always do. I'se bet-"

"Hey Valleys, ya ready ta go?" the formidable Griff interrupted. Spunk would've protested the interruption, but she remembered tales of the scary ex-Bronx leader. He'd done more terrible things than even Trigger could ever do. 

Valleys didn't protest either, he just nodded, kissed Spunk good-bye, and then followed Griff and Skinner. Striker was close behind, after kissing Bullet good-bye and knocking the brim of Spunk's hat down playfully.

The last group to leave was the duo setting out for Harlem. It consisted of Striker's silvery-seeming, handsome boy Bullet, and the penny-pinching, silent, and rather gruff Tyrant.

After waving good-bye to the sly Bullet, Spunk turned slowly toward Trigger. A wave of nausea hit her at the sight of Ruckus sitting in his lap, giggling as he nibbled her ear. Rolling her eyes, Spunk turned and followed the other newsies's path out the door, choosing to sit on the steps and wait for Ruckus and Trigger. Silently she prayed to any deity that was listening that some of the Brookies stationed in Queens and the Bronx would be coming to sell with them.

A/N: So, what do you think! I know, I introduced a TON of characters in this one for the first time, but tell me your opinion! As in, REVIEW PLEASE!

Spot: _Yeah. You'se gotta review. _glares at him _Please…_

**Shout Outs: **(wow, there's a lot this time!)

**Gip:** lol There was more for you Gip! And even more's on its way! lol I wrote chappie 18 while in the car. And the start of chap 19! So you should be a happy Gip! Course, the end of chap 18's a cliffhanger and chap 19 doesn't pick back up on it…But oh well! hugs Glad you're liking the story though!

**Whisper: **Hey. I know! It's torture to me to do this to him! It's horrible! But I'm glad you find the story intriguing! grins Hope you keep reading!

**Risatine: **lol I will keep writing as long as you all keep reviewing! grins I love getting reviews. And they make me want to work harder and write more! So review lots! lol But more's on its way tonight!

**Bittah: **Aw, thanks! lol You don't need to lose sleep over me though! Yup! I have more reviews! hope happy twirling dance lol And I'm glad it wasn't too bad. I was worried that it would be. And I'm worried about this chappie too, cuz it's uber-introductions again. But oh well… Hope you like this one! And the next one that's on its way tonight!

**Skater: **Glad you like it! Hope I did your character justice in this chapter!

**Marsh:** Glad you think it's good! lol Sleep! So that you can read more and review! And I'm sorry my update wasn't sooner! (As in this morning. Lol)

**Angelfish: **teehee! lol I love suspense! It's fun! lol Plus it just adds for all-around goodness I think. And I know I usually am. And you'll find at least two new chappies tonight! lol Glad you thought chapter 15 was cute, I liked it a lot too. And I'll keep going as long as all of you keep reviewing!

Spot: _Wells, hurry up an' get da next chaptah up foah da nice people!_

Oh I will! I will! Don't be so rude about it! Have fun reading the next chappie in like 15 minutes! Lol Criss-Cross


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Henna, Corsets, and Cu...

A/N: Yup! My second chapter of the night! lol Hope you like this one. It's a little different than the rest, but you'll understand it when the time comes. Anyway, read, review, and enjoy! Criss-Cross

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters, Disney does.

**Chapter Eighteen: Henna, Corsets, and Curls**

Alleyway was supposed to be on guard duty at noon, but instead, she found herself standing in a Harlem back alley, watching the injured Criss-Cross knock on the Harlem Lodging House's backdoor.

"Who's dere?" an annoyed, rough female voice called.

"It's Criss-Cross, Henna!" Criss-Cross called through the thin door. Immediately the door burst open and a grinning girl threw her arms around Criss-Cross's neck.

"Wheah yas been goil!" the auburn-haired beauty who was even shorter than Criss-Cross exclaimed. 

"You'se'll nevah believe wheah I'se been," Criss-Cross replied, her grin mirroring the other girl's.

"Wheah!" Henna asked, but her voice was drowned out by a squeal and another flying form that landed on Criss-Cross. Her grin brightened as she found herself eye-to-eye with the quirky, bouncy head full of curls, named Curls.

"Wells, I'se been in Colahradah!" Criss-Cross replied, laughing as Curls's bright blue eyes turned frustrated as she tried to shove a handful of curls out of her face unsuccessfully.

"Well if it ain't da great Criss-Cross Kat'rine Conlon," a sensual, approving female voice said from behind Henna's shoulder, and Criss-Cross looked up into the warm honey-brown eyes of Corsets, a newsie known for her looks, and tastes in men.

"Why's ya heah?" Henna asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside. Alleyway and Curls followed, introducing themselves to one another.

"Wells, I'se in needa help goils," Criss-Cross responded as Corsets shut the door with a snap and began the walk up the darkened stairway to what Alleyway had heard described as "the preparation room". She knew who the three girls were, and knew that they were known for making girls more beautiful than their wildest dreams would allow.

"What d'ya need us ta do?" Curls asked, giggling prettily.

"What da you'se usually do? Yas doll goils like me up. An' dat's what I'se in needa right now."

A small smile that was half-grin, half-smirk lit Corsets face as she held open a door and allowed all the girls to walk through before entering herself and closing it abruptly. "Good…" was all she said as she shoved the shorter girl into a chair in the center. "D'ya want Henna's specialty too? Because, don' take dis ta offence goil, but I'se t'ink you'se need it. What's in ya haiah by da way?"

A sheepish, yet delightedly wicked grin lit Criss-Cross's face as she responded, "Blood…"

Curls gave a nervous giggle, but set to pumping water into a pot and then putting it on the hearth to heat. Henna grinned and walked over to a cupboard, and pulled out her supplies, while Corsets left the room. After a minute she came back with some clothing articles and a smirk on her face. Turning to Alleyway, she said in her manner that there was food in the kitchen, and that she could wait downstairs with the boys while they helped Criss-Cross out. Alley grudging went down the stairs, leaving her friends in the hands of three of the most sinful girls in New York. 

Three hours later, Alleyway was quite fed-up with the Harlem boys, and was ready to see her friend again. Walking back up the stairs, she found the door, and walked right in to find Criss-Cross pulling a red shirt over her head as Curls poured the water out the window, and Corsets and Henna slumped into chairs. 

With a small smirk, Corsets said, "You'se jus' in time." And she tossed Criss-Cross a corset and pointed to Alley asking, "Wells, what da ya t'ink?"

Criss-Cross slipped the bodice on and tightened it up until her breathing was slighty shallow, but then she turned with a grin to the girls and gave a surprisingly graceful twirl.

"You'se look like a dream, Criss-Cross!" Alleyway exclaimed, taking in the sight of the new, improved Criss-Cross Kat Conlon.

Her friend's now chin-length hair had taken on the red-brown shimmer of henna dye, and her front two locks were curled in tiny spirals, creating a frame on her beaming face. Her lips had been dyed a deep, dark red by cherry juice, which was also been pinched onto her cheeks to give them a rosy pink coloring.

A full black skirt graced her slender hips perfectly. And for once, Alleyway would see her best friend's sensual feminine curves, revealed by the red-laced black corset which lay over a red peasant top that revealed her slender, well-toned shoulders.

Alley noticed the large silver hoops that now fell from Criss-Cross's newly-pierced ears. A tiny silver chain clung around her neck and topped off the ensemble. The fearless, usually boyish Conlon girl gave another twirl, revealing a pair of high-button black boots under the full skirt.

With a sweeping motion, she turned her twirl into a graceful curtsy, coming up beaming brighter than Alleyway had ever seen her smile before. The affect of which caused her to seem more beautiful that she had even seconds before.

"What?" Criss-Cross asked, laughing at the surprised look on the Higgins girl's face. "You'se didn' t'ink I'se could clean up real nice an' actually look like I'se a pretty goil?"

"Ya clean up jus' as good as da t'ree a us," Corsets remarked, draping a white silk shawl with silver and gold embroidery over Criss-Cross's revealed shoulders, making her seem even more decadent, if it was even possible. "Ya shoah ya don' wanna join us in ouah job?"

Criss-Cross giggled prettily like a normal girl would, and shook her head, blushing slightly behind the cherry juice.

"Wells she ain't done yet!" Henna exclaimed, pulling Criss-Cross across the room and shoving her into a chair at a table. The table was set with a bowl of henna paste, and her henna tattooing tools.

"Dis'll get borin'," Curls told Alleyway, and she and Corsets pulled Criss-Cross's friend from the room and back down the stairs to the kitchen, where the three girls sat discussing trivial things for the next two hours, until Henna and Criss-Cross arrived down in the kitchen at the same time as a rather unexpected disturbance, that was sent by the new ruler of Brooklyn, Trigger Jones.

A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed it. Sadly, there's no Shout Outs this time around. But oh well! I'm hoping for lots on the next chappie! (Assuming I don't post it tonight. lol) Criss-Cross


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Blink of an Eye

A/N: Well, okay, I'm not gonna talk long cuz I'm like crying right now. But you know, the usual disclaimer. lol I think I've said it enough times for you guys to have it memorized. But…I don't own Newsies, nor its characters, Disney does.

**Chapter Nineteen: Blink of an Eye**

"Get yer ass up dere an' save Blink!"

Jack heard Jittery arrive back at the Manhattan Lodging House with a doctor in tow. Saying a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity had sent this good luck their way, Jack leaped off his bunk and ran to meet the doctor.

Nearly slamming face-first into the bewildered balding old man, he waved for the man to follow him and lead him into the infirmary where he could hear a groaning sound coming from Blink's bed. An improvement, in Jack's opinion, to the deathly silence from earlier. Maybe Criss-Cross really had helped to save him. Jack had always figured she had more gifts than just her talent at fighting.

Pulling back the curtain to allow the doctor access to Blink, he was surprised to see that Air had taken Criss-Cross job of cleaning Blink's wounds. Pulling Kit Kat aside, in a hushed voice he asked, "Wheah's Criss-Cross?"

Kit Kat gave him a look and responded, "She an' Runaway went out front ta wait foah Jitts an' da doctah."

Jack's expression turned puzzled as he furrowed his brows. "But Runaway left ta sell papes."

"Criss-Cross musta gone wit' her den," Kit Kat responded, not getting why Jack was upset.

"No, she isn'. I saw Runaway walk out myself. She an' I'se chatted foah a few minutes."

"What's da mattah Jack?"

Jack Kelly sighed, shaking his head. "Nothin'," he muttered, turning and walking out. His head was a jumble, but the only thought in his head was that he needed to find Criss-Cross. Being one of Spot's good friend, and the only one left in a position to help, he felt responsible for the 14 year-old.

And so it was that Air and Whisper found themselves outside the Central Park Lodging House at noon to ask Wicked if he'd seen Criss-Cross. Jack had sent Air to do the real asking, and Whisper just because he wanted to get her out of the house.

Spying the Central Park leader lounging against an alley wall, smoking. Air grabbed the still-sobbing Whisper's hand and dragged her over to the boy.

"Ya seen Criss-Cross by any chance?" she asked, brushing a lock of chocolate brown hair out of her face.

He took a final drag on his cigarette and with a flick of his wrist sent it down the alley into a small puddle. "Yas meanin' Watson? Why yas wantin' ta see 'im?" he asked, then answered their first question. "An' nah, I'se ain't seen 'im since yestaday at da distribution centah."

Whisper gave him a soft glare, but let Air do the talking. Hands on her skirt-clad hips, she said, "Foah yer information, dat 'Watson' jus' so happens ta not be a boy. She's a goil by da name a Criss-Cross Kat Conlon. Spot lil sistah. Ya know 'er?"

Wicked's eyes drew wide as he stared at the two girls. "Sp-Spot's sistah? Y-ya mean lil Crissie Conlon?"

Whisper nodded shyly, and spoke in a voice that hung with tears, "She always went by Criss-Cross wit' us. Even gave Jack a fat lip foah callin' her Crissie one time. But you'se musta known her since she's lil. But ya ain't seen her?"

"Criminy…" Wicked said softly, internally screaming at himself for being so blind. _Dat's why she's so big on hatin' Triggah. An' hatin' all da traitahs wit' 'im…_ he thought. _Dey killed her bruddah. Her own flesh an' blood. Even if Spot did run her outta Brooklyn, she'd still love 'im. She's always adoied Spot…_

"Ya ain't seen her?" Air's voice broke through his thoughts. He shook his head silently, not believing that he hadn't realized it was her. "Have yas seen Alleyway? Da two were good friends, an' maybe dey's runnin' tagethah."

Again Wicked just shook his head. Alley was his girl, but she'd disappeared at around eleven, right around when she was supposed to go on guard duty, and he'd been worried about her. "She ain' been seen since 'round 'leven. We's all gettin' worried 'bout her."

"sht…" Whisper muttered, causing Air's eyes to widen in surprise. Whisper was shy and often quiet, yet here she was saying cusswords in front of someone who was a complete stranger to her.

_Hawd times lead ta odd t'ings…_ she thought. _Not ta mention dis means Jack mad her leave Blink foah nothin'._

"T'anks," she nodded at Wicked, and then taking Whispers's hand in her own, she lead her back down the street.

"Wait!" Wicked's voice rang out down the street after them. He looked a little nervous, but he ran after them, saying, "I'se need ta talk ta Kelly…"

Back at the lodging house, Specs and Jack were holding their sobbing girls tight. Skittery stood with his hand on Mush's shoulder after giving up on trying to calm Jittery down. Tears streamed out of the rock-solid Mush's eyes as he watched a final breath escape his best friend's lungs and a solid wall of grief rent him helpless. His sole conspirator taken from him in a blink of the patched eye. Blink was dead…

A/N: Now do you see why I was crying? bursts into more tears It might just be my pathetic state, but I love these guys and don't want any of them dying! But it had to be done…

Spot: _I'll rent Triggah limb from limb foah dis!_

Erm, Spot, you're kinda dead.

Spot: _Oh…_

**Shout Outs:**

**Bittah: **Yes! A twist! lol And I do too, so, I have to make it interesting. Plus, I just thought it was funny to make Criss-Cross girly for a while. And you'll have to keep reading and reviewing to find out what Trigger's gonna do! lol You'll see more of it. But YES! You MUST write more of your fic! I'm in love with it so you HAVE to!

Spot: _I'se concoi. An' foah once, I'se not da rude one! sticks tongue out_

Haha! Very funny Spot! But you've seriously got to write more!

**Skater: **Yes. Reviews are very nice. lol And I hope this was ASAP enough for you! And I'm glad you think it's good. Also glad that I've got your character down. lol And I think she worked very well being that P.Oed. lol But who wouldn't be after only 3 hours of sleep!

Well, hope to post more later! Keep reading and reviewing and I'm sure I'll post it faster! Criss-Cross


	20. Chapter Twenty: No More Felicity

A/N: Okay, here's my next chapter. I know, I know, it's another sappy one. Sorry Bittah! But I had to fit this in somewhere. Anyway, if you haven't noticed, if I can, I usually like to use chapter names that either you don't get until the end of the chapter, or, they have dual meaning's. This one's kinda both. But I thought I'd just say that Felicity isn't just a name, it's also a noun meaning "bliss" or "great happiness". But, without further ado (except for my quick Disclaimer) here's the chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters, Disney does. Though, their only character in this chapter is Spot Conlon.

**Chapter Twenty: No More Felicity**

Criss-Cross kept her eyes closed as Henna applied a henna eyeliner, claiming that it was the current fashion in Africa. Criss-Cross had no idea if it truly was. She didn't even know the current fashion in New York, let alone in the rest of the world.

Even with her eyes closed, Criss-Cross could still see the design that Henna had come up with the tattoo onto Criss-Cross's shoulder. It was the initials SC and FB linked together. They stood for her loved ones that had died. The first obviously was Spot Conlon. The second was Felicity Bates, also known as Frisk.

She bit back tears as she always did at the thought of Frisk. Henna noticed the small motion, and told her to relax, and so she did, her mind floating back to a day four years earlier as Henna began work on the tattoo that was to go on her left shoulder. 

_"Heya Kattie," a thirteen year-old Spot Conlon said, walking into the great room in which ten year-old Criss-Cross sat. He ruffled her blonde hair playfully and gave a tug at the brown lock. _

She shoved his hand away playfully and grinned at her older brother. "Moinin' Spot. How'd ya sleep?"

He shrugged and flopped into the chair next to her. "A'ight I'se guess. Ya ready ta get outta heah?"

Criss-Cross nodded sleepily as Win came in and ruffled her hair, just as Spot had done. "Criminy," she joked, "Are all a yas gonna do dat ta me's from now on?" 

Laughing, Spot held out his hand and yanked his sister to her feet, reaching out to ruffle her hair again jokingly, but she had the Conlon speed, and grabbed his wrist, keeping him from reaching her head. Grinning, her ruffled her hair with his other hand before turning towards the door.

In the entryway, the two grabbed their hats, and shoved them on their heads, Criss-Cross stuffing her hair up into hers first. As Spot opened the door, an out-of-breath Advantage fell across the threshold.

"What's da mattah Ad?" Criss-Cross asked.

"Yeah, yas look like yas jus' ran ta Manhattan an' back," Spot added, joking. But then he saw his right-hand's expression and his face turned grave.

Gasping for breath, Advantage spluttered, "It's Frisk Bates a Queens."

"Frisk!" Criss-Cross exclaimed before Spot could even say anything. "What's da mattah wit' her?"

"She's, aw jesus Spot, she's dead!"

"What!" Exclaimed Spot as Criss-Cross fell back against the wall in shock, her expression silent and her breathing becoming more and more shallow. Frisk was dead? How could she be? Thoughts raced through the ten year-old's head as Advantage spoke again.

"Moidahed. Musta done it durin' da night da dn bastards. Nobody coulda gotten Frisk. She's neah as tough as you'se!"

Spot nodded his consent, and then turned worriedly to his sister who was gasping for air just as badly as Ad was, if not even worse. Her airways had locked up tight, and her face had begun to turn blue from lack of air. Walking over to her, he put his hands hard on her shoulder and gave her a shake, saying, "Kattie! Criss-Cross! Come on goil! Breathe!"

He gave her another hard shake that made her blink her unfocused eyes and look at him. Giving her another hard shake, he yelled, "Breathe!"

Suddenly she drew in a fast, harsh breath, before falling sobbing against his chest, held tight by his strong arms. Her surrogate older sister, and the first real family member she could remember clearly, was dead. She let herself go completely, sobbing into her brother's chest and he hugged her furiously tight and order the other boys to go head out and start selling, wanting to save her the embarrassment of them witnessing her sobs. 

"Ya can open yer eyes now," Henna's voice said in her ear, and Criss-Cross opened two eyes blurred with tears from the memory, and beheld the FB on the tattoo sample that would adorn her shoulder. Silently, she thought, _my Felicity's gone, an' she's nevah comin' back, jus' like Spot…_

With that thought, Criss-Cross was forced to close her eyes shut tight, to stop the tears that threatened from coming out. Both her siblings were now dead. She had no one left. A great depression settled into her stomach as she thought, _I'm all alone..._

A/N: Okay, hope you liked it. I think it's okay, but I just want to get on with the next chapter! lol Anyway, now for the SOs!

**Shout Outs:**

**Skater: **I know! It was horrible! tear But I had to do it for the story plot! sniffs too If it didn't have to be for the plot, then I wouldn't have done it! I love all the guys too much! And I'm glad it was quick enough for you. Was this one quick enough too?

**Whisper:** Yes! She did! lol I thought it would fit her character in the moment. It is sad though! But things get worse! Or, at least in my opinion they do. Because now, after chapters like this where you get to see the brother-sister relationship between Spot and Criss-Cross, I think it makes thinking about him being dead worse. lol And I'm writing as fast as I can, because I wanna see what happens too! teehee! And I'm glad you think it's natural, and that the introductions aren't too horrible. I always worry that they will be, especially since I chose 19 characters from my CC. teehee

**Angelfish: **lol Yeah. There's tons going on. I hope that doesn't make the story confusing… And I'll try to put up chapters as fast as I can. lol I love your character's bf Bullet. He's too cool for his own good, but oh well! lol And I'm glad you like what I'm doing with Striker. Suspense is fun! hehe!

**Bittah: **Yeah, I know, I want to see fighting too. lol Sappy stuff's sometimes fun, but the action's better in my opinion. This chapter was difficult to write cuz of the sappyness of it, and just because of the emotions in general. Anyways, glad you like it, and I'm trying to get more as fast as I can! And yay! You wrote more on your story! But I still want even more! More!

Criss-Cross


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Glint

A/N: Okay. I was trying to get this up last night, but you know, things happen, and, well, I didn't manage to, so, here it is! lol I'm going to try to get another chapter up tonight if I can, but I'm not making any promises. (My grandmother's staying the night with us on rather short notice, and I think she's gonna be getting in within the next hour, so, I dunno if I'll be able to write.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters, Disney does. Also, Bittah belongs to Bittah, Spunk to Spunk, Jittery to Jittery, and Marsh to Myya Conlon. (Wow! That was all from memory too!)

**Chapter Twenty-One: Glint**

Tears stilling stinging her dark brown eyes, and her light brown wavy hair pulled back in a black ribbon, Jittery stepped a black-booted foot into Brooklyn territory. None of the Manhattan newsies knew where she was going, which could have been a mistake on her part, but she didn't care. The only thought on her mind was avenging Blink's death, and she planned to do it even at the risk of her own life.

Jitts wasn't usually violent, or even overly rash for that matter. Usually she had a laid-back, comedic view on the world, but the death of one of her best friends had left her quite different from her usual self, and even if Cowboy wouldn't take Manhattan into the war, she would still fight.

She had always been close to the Manhattan boys, ever since her parents had died, leaving her as an orphan on the streets at the age of five. In fact, she was known to have a dislike for other girls who could become competition.

Spying one of Trigger's girls right away, Jittery set to work. Sneaking up behind the shorter girl, she jumped on her back, bringing the shorter newsie to the ground. Seeing a bandage on the girl's wrist, she felt a pang of guilt, but continued on with her attack anyway. Driving a fist solidly into the girl's stomach, she felt the first of the girl's blows hit her cheek, knocking her back slightly.

"Spunk!" a gruff female voice yelled from a ways down the Brooklyn Bridge, and the other girl turned to look as Jittery rammed her fist into the girl's nose, causing blood to spill forth. As she raised her fist again, a hand wrenched her arm back, and someone else's fist was jammed into her face.

Jitts eyes blurred slightly as she looked up to see her new attacker. The girl was probably three inches shorter than her own height of 5 feet 8, and had shoulder-length blonde hair that stuck out from under a gray cabby hat that was pulled down over her eyes.

As the fist hit her hard in the face again, Jittery realized with a flash of horror that this was the girl named Bittah that she'd heard about. Bittersweerharmony was supposed to be as good a fighter as the Conlons, with just as bad a temper. She'd been a former Chicago gangmember, who'd come to New York, and been in Brooklyn not quite a week before she'd been forced to choose between being a loyal Brooklyn kid and not giving into Trigger, or being one of Trigger's "subjects". In Jitts mind, she'd chosen the wrong side.

As Jittery hit the ground hard, she heard Bittah telling the other girl –whom she called Spunk- to get back to the lodging house, and that she'd be along shortly, just as soon as she finished with their "current little problem". Meaning Jitts.

Standing slowly again, she saw the back of the retreating Spunk, and ducked just in time as Bittah's fist came at her again.

"What da hell's ya doin' heah!" a voice, Marsh's, came from over her shoulder. Not even taking the time to turn, Jittery threw a punch at Bittah, which missed by a foot as the Queens-loyal girl dodged.

"Avengin' Blink," Jitts muttered as she dodged another of Bittah's fists. The green-eyed jumped in front of the bleeding Jitts, and, cursing under her breathe, waited for Bittah to take a swipe at her.

When Bittah did, Marsh rushed forward and jabbed her shoulder hard into Bittah's stomach, causing both girls to tumble to the ground in a tangle. Bittah, who had landed on the bottom, cursed as her had fell back off her head. Shoving Marsh off, she kneed the slightly shorter girl in the stomach, and stood just in time to be tackled by Jittery, whose fists hit anything they could of Bittah.

For the second time in the fight, Bittah lay on the bottom. Shoving her fist hard into Jitts's left cheekbone, she shoved her off and rolled to her feet once more. She was more than ready as Marsh's fist flew her way. Grabbing hold of the other girl's wrist, she wrenched it back, causing Marsh to yelp in pain as something in it cracked. She realized that she'd done the same move the girl named Criss-Cross had done in the fight where Spunk had gotten injured. Kicking Marsh hard, she sent her flying back as Jittery slowly came to her feet. 

Bittah rolled her currently bright green eyes as Jitts took a swipe at her. Dodging easily, Bittah grabbed the other girl's shoulders and sent her flying towards the hard ground once more. Sighing, she thought, _When'm I gonna get a woithy adversary?_

Pulling her dagger easily from its sheath that was strapped to her right thigh, Bittah turned to face Marsh who was back on her feet. Seeing the glint of the blade from her place on the ground, Jitts screamed to Marsh to run, but Marsh heard the warning too late.

She had barely moved an inch before the dagger ripped through the flesh on her stomach. A scream ripped out of her throat as Bittah tore the knife back out. Clapping her injured hand over her stomach, Marsh managed to back-hand Bittah hard across the face before staggering backwards into a set of barrels.

Jittery was up on her feet in an instant, and spinning Bittah around, she head-butted the shorter girl and shoved her to the ground, wrenching the knife from Bittah's grasp. She threw it several feet away, and ran to help Marsh to her feet. Practically carrying her friend away from the fight, she began to run, fresh tears streaming down her face as her bewildered thoughts blamed Marsh's injury on herself. _Please don' let Marsh die too…_ she thought, silently screaming at herself and the two crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, headed back to Manhattan, and to safety.

Back at the Duane Street Lodging House in Manhattan, Jack Kelly was just sitting down to talk to a very flustered-seeming Wicked.

"Jack, you'se gotta bring Manhattan inta da war now," Wicked insisted before Kelly had even gotten comfortable. "Do yas really want anuddah one like Blink ta die? Befoah ya know it, dey'll be pickin' us off one by one. We gotta make a stand foah it! Jus' listen ta me. Let down yer fkin' pride, an' make a stand foah it! What's da woist dat could happen! We loose Manhattan ta Triggah! But ain't dat bettah an' moah proud dan sittin' around waitin' foah 'im ta kill us all off!"

Sighing, Kelly put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes as he thought it over. "I'se dunno Wicked. Yas really wanna put everyone in dangah by fightin'? I'se mean, what about yer girl? Yas really want her ta possibly die?"

Wicked chewed his lip for a moment as he thought it over. He didn't want Alleyway to die, but he also didn't want to see her picked off by some gang sent to butcher them all. Finally, after moments of a silence so intense it could've killed, he said, "Cowboy, yer righ'. I'se don' want Alley ta die. But I'se also don' want her ta be killed off in some five-on-one fight. In my opinion, it's bettah dat she stand wit' da whole a Manhattan, dan on her own. An' even if yas don't take Manhattan inta battle, Central Pawk's goin'. An' dere's nothin' ya can say dat'll change me mind on dat."

Kelly just sighed and looked out the window, wishing for some easier way out of all of this chaos. _So'se…_ he thought, _It's eiddah fight an' die, a wait around foah dem ta kill us off…Now we's jus' gotta pick ouah choice. Eiddah way, we's gonna die._

Finally, after what seem liked ages to Wicked, Jack Kelly nodded his head in consent. "On one condition d'ough," he said. "Dat da kids a Manhattan get ta chose what dey's wanna do."

"So'se we'll vote den?" Wicked asked, and Kelly just nodded. The two sat in silence for a few moments as they both came to grips with their utter exhaustion. 

After a while, Wicked finally spoke up on a lighter note. "So, was dat goil really Spot Conlon's lil sistah Criss-Cross, a were Air an' Whispah jus' pullin' me tail?"

Jack laughed for the first time in what felt like weeks, and nodded, responding, "It shoah as hell was. An' I'se almost got da bruise ta prove it. She's jus' like her bruddah, dat's foah shoah."

Wicked nodded, thinking about the short conversation he'd had with her in which she'd completely taken away his power. And the glint he'd seen in her serene blue-gray-green eyes. It definitely brought back to him memories of the dead Spot, just in a live form. "Dat she is, Jack…Dat she is…"

A/N: Taadaa! What did you think! lol I'm terribly sorry to Spunk if you're reading this, I've kind of been using Spunk as a punching bag, but it'll stop soon enough. Anyway, this chapter was WAY more violent, lol, but oh well! Violence fits in nicely with the sappy stuff, and now, without further ado, the shout outs!

**Shout Outs:**

**Skater: **lol Glad it was quick enough. Was this one? lol And yeah, I like updating everyday. I think it keeps the readers a little more interested, because then they can read the story more often and keep grips on the plot. lol Anyway, I'm gonna try to update again tonight, but no promises!

**Gip:** Yay! Glad you like it. lol Makes me a happy Criss-Cross to know that my fans like my story! lol And yeah, I pitty little Criss-Cross. Tons happened to her at a young age, and in my opinion, the next memory I'll write (and probably the last one) will be the worst.

**Angelfish: **Believe it or not, I actually didn't originally plan it that way, one sad chapter after another. But it just happened, which I think kind of doubles the emotion. And I made myself teary too! lol And I'm glad you love the flashbacks. They're always fun for me to write, because they create more depth to Criss-Cross, and they give you reasons as to why she is the way she is, and let you get a good look at the sadness of her past. lol And more about Criss-Cross and her past is on the way! lol And you just got your fight too! Are ya a happy Angelfish?

**Bittah:** lol Yes, it was sad. But this chapter was action at least! lol I hope you're okay with me making Bittah stab Marsh. But, well, it had to be done. (More mysterious plot stuff that only I get…) And was this chapter actiony enough for you? And I'm sorry I didn't get this up last night! Wish I had, but my dad told me to "go to bed". Though, 200 pages in the book I'm reading and 4 times through of playing the Newsies soundtrack and I still wasn't tired. But whatever… lol And I'm glad you think it's well-balanced and good! lol Makes me happy! And I'll try to get you more tonight!

**Air: **pouts, then grins Aw, I was gonna act pouty towards you over not reviewing, but I can't seem to. I'm glad you've been faithfully reading at least. It gives me hope that there are others like you reading, but just not reviewing. lol I'm glad you like my story! grins bigger And, well, I'll try to update again fast! For all those of you faithfully both reading and reviewing!

Spot: _Can ya jus' get woikin' on da next chaptah already? I'se wantin' ya ta jus' get tad a next memory! I'se wanna be in da story again! Even d'ough I'se dead!_

Would you chill Spot! Anyway, please review everybody! Criss-Cross


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo: Fate's Sealing Bell

A/N: Yay! I did it! I wrote this chapter and chapter twenty-one! Yay! Okay, sorry, I didn't think this was going to happen tonight because, well, my grandmother's supposed to be coming into town, but she's still not here yet. But anyway, I won't keep you from the story, except for my disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor the characters in it. Disney owns that privilege. Also, Bullet belongs to Runaway, and Tyrant belongs to Air! Thanks for letting me use them goils!

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Fate's Sealing Bell**

Eighteen year-old Bullet slipped into the Harlem Lodging House with a scowl on his face. It was five, and he and Tyrant had talked to every Harlem newsie they'd seen selling on the streets, and so far none had decided to join the Queens force. The Lodging House was their last stop before they would head back to Brooklyn for the night, and be forced under Trigger's wrath at the bad news.

Tyrant's usual smirking silence didn't help any either. Bullet felt that he was silently being mocked for something, which he definitely didn't like. Running a hand through his blond-flecked light brown hair, he opened the door to Harlem's great room and looked around at the newsies gathered there, all smoking, talking, and laughing. Over in a corner, he caught the golden gleam of one of Harlem's Famous Three. The girl named curls.

She sat with Corsets by the door to the kitchen, chatting amiably with a girl he didn't recognize. Sauntering over to the trio, he felt Tyrant hot on his heels, and a smirk of satisfaction came over his face as he realized that not even the great Tyrant -who considered girls a waste of time and money- could ignore the beauty of the golden-girls.

"Evenin' ladies," Bullet said in his smooth way. His words seemed to glide, like water over a silver dish. "How's ya'll doin'?"

Corsets looked up into his gray eyes and gave a small, knowing smirk, while the bouncy blonde, Curls, beamed. The third girl just cocked an eyebrow as her eyes widened slightly.

"Evenin' yerself, Mistah Brehan," Corsets replied in her sultry manner, using his real last name. "An' who might dis gent wit' ya be?"

Tyrant's eyes widened slightly in surprise, as though he thought the sensual beauty might not notice him. "Uh…Tyrant," he responded, seemingly a little embarrassed. Bullet caught the glint in Corset's eye at his hesitation, and felt himself smirk. He'd once been a Harlem newsie, back in his younger years, before he'd moved to the Bronx and met Striker. And he could well remember what kind of a spell Corsets held over men, even those of her own lodging house. 

"An' ta what do we owe dis visit?" she asked smoothly, her fingertips brushing Bullet's arm as she gestured to the two. He felt a small fire in his loins, but upon remembering his duty, it disappeared.

"Wells, Triggah sent us from 'is poich in da Brooklyn Lodgin' House," he answered. "'E's lookin' foah loyalties ta 'im from Harlem. Unfoitunately, we's ain't found any so far."

Corsets tsked with her tongue, and running a finger unconsciously across her chest, she gave him a look of pity. "Well, dat's just too bad," she said, "but I don' know of anyone heah who'd follow yas. But maybe Curls an' I can…ease yer sufferin'?"

Tyrant raised an eyebrow at Bullet, but before he could speak, a figure newly come through the kitchen door spoke.

"I'll follow you fellows," the girl said in a soprano voice that dripped with femininity. Bullet looked her up and down, and felt a pang in high loins sharper than the one he'd felt when Corset's hand had brushed his arm.

He felt as though he was looking at an icon of pure feminine beauty. She was slender, with nice hips that weren't too broad, but, at the same time, weren't too small either. From them fell a full black skirt, complete with a small lace edge. Following his eyes up, he found a perfectly flat, slim stomach, and looking further, his eyes came to rest on her bosom. She was not too large in the breast department, but at the same time, she was not so small that she was not noticed. 

Two fingers suddenly touched the bottom side of his jaw, and gave a slight push upwards. Realizing his jaw had been hanging open, he shut it, sheepishly grinning up at the divine beauty, who had a smirk playing on her cherry lips. Raising a graceful eyebrow questioningly, she asked, "See something you like?"

Bullet licked his lips, and suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His usual sly, too-cool-for-his-own-good attitude had failed him, leaving him nothing but a boy in the face of something truly divine that not even he could fathom. A pretty chuckle rose from the girls throat as she watched his expression.

Alleyway walked Criss-Cross step forward and extend her hand to the boy, saying in her new-found high voice, and Midwest accent, "I'm Kattie. And, you are?" 

Astonished beyond belief at her friend's bold actions, she rose to protest, but a firm, yet kind hand on her shoulder kept her down. Henna –who had come through the door with Criss-Cross- was holding her into her seat. Alleyway sighed inwardly as she watch the scene before her play out, admittedly amused beyond words as Criss-Cross's seemingly natural coy nature and kitten-appeal.

Bullet slowly took Kattie's hand, completely astonished at actually being able to touch the living goddess. "I'se Bullet," he replied, his response sounding dumb even to him. Taking a deep breath, he focused tried to relax some. "So'se, ya wanna come ta Brooklyn wit' us an' be foah Queens?" he asked conversationally.

She bobbed her auburn-haired head 'yes' and said, "Well, I figured I might as well. I'm new here in town, and, well, if I'm going to make a name for myself, I might as well start by going with the biggest, most powerful group I can find." She giggled prettily, her laugh seeming like tiny tinkling bells.

"Wells, yas chose da right group den," Bullet responded, managing to slowly gain back his usual composure. "Dis is Tyrant by da way. 'E's anuddah one a Triggah Jones' boys, jus' like me."

Her laugh played again as she extended her hand to the chestnut-haired, semi-skeletal boy. "Nice to meet you, Tyrant. Say, where'd you get a name like that anyway?"

Tyrant just shrugged, not even looking her full in the eye. A pout graced Kattie's face at this dismissal. Looking back at Bullet, she said, "Well, I guess all is done here, I'll just need to get my things from Corsets's room, and kiss my wonderful consorts here good-bye." At this she gestured to the other girls. "They'll all been so kind to me. You will wait while I set my affairs in order, won't you?"

Another peeling bell of laughter escaped her at this notion, and without even waiting for a yes, she turned on her heel, the other girls following quickly behind.

Once safely out of earshot upstairs, Criss-Cross broke down into a laughing fit of hysterics. "I'se nevah seen such chumps!" she exclaimed, gasping for breath and near tears in her laughter.

Corsets too was sblack personing in her own secretive manner, while Curls and Henna were holding each other they were laughing so hard. Alleyway chuckled a little at it, but she seemed to be the only one not finding it that funny. Sighing inwardly, she wondered as to what made her different from the four laughing girls before her. Or what, for that matter, made Criss-Cross and them the same?

_How did she's meet dem in da foist place? An' how come dese t'ree are such good friends?_ The thought crossed Alleyway's mind like a shatter pain of glass. But she simply shook the thought out of her head as Criss-Cross came up and grabbed her hand, pulling her slightly away from the rest of the group.

"Alleyway, listen, I'se need yas ta do a couplah favahs foah me, a'ight?" she asked.

Alleyway thought of being cruel, but then decided to just consent, and so she nodded to the new Criss-Cross.

"A'ight," Criss-Cross replied, heaving a sigh. "Heah's what I'se need yas ta do. Foist, I'se need ya ta tell Kelly wheah I'se at. You'se know how I'se don' like 'im, but 'e has a righ' ta know. Plus, 'e's'll be soichin' foah me anyway. But jus' tell 'im not ta worry, an' jus' ta sit tight foah da moment. I'se'll be fine.

"Second, I'se need yas ta find Runaway. Spot's goil. An' tell her wheah I'se gone, an' not ta worry about me. An' tell her ta find a way outta New Yawk. Befoah Triggah finds her. Cuz if 'e does, she'll be dead. Giver her my command ta leave! Ya got dat?" Alleyway nodded.

"An' lastly, if I'se don' make it outta Brooklyn…" Criss-Cross gulped nervously before continuing, "If I'se die, I'se need yas ta promise dat ya'll go out ta Colahradah, an' tell me lodgin' house, da Colahradah Springs Lodgin' House, dat I'se dead. An' I'se want yas ta take ovah me place as leadah. A'ight?"

Alleyway hesitated, not sure what to say or do. Her throat felt slightly constricted as she thought of her best friend Criss-Cross dying at the hand of Trigger Jones, just as so many others had done. Criss-Cross grabbed her upper-arm in a forceful, tight grip that made her wince, and said more sternly, a flash of fire in her eye, "A'ight!"

Mutely Alleyway nodded, feeling defeated. As Criss-Cross turned to go back to the group, she spoke up, feebly. "Wait…" Criss-Cross turned back, and Alleyway swallowed hard. But, she flung her arms around Criss-Cross's neck anyway, and hugged her friend fiercely, whispering in her ear, "Jus' be careful, a'ight?"

Criss-Cross nodded as Alleyway let go of her, and walking back over to the group, she nodded, gave them each a peck on the cheek in turn, lifted her bag, and was gone from the room in an instant, leaving Alleyway fearing that it was the last time she'd ever see the fiery sister of Spot Conlon. But the girl had sealed her own fate, and Alleyway had known all along that nothing she could say would change that.

A/N: So, what'd you think. Please review and tell me! Unfortunately, there's no shout outs this time around, but oh well! Two chapters posted this close together, what should I expect!

Spot: _I'se dunno. Don' look at me._

Oh well. Please double review this one! lol Or you could just make your review twice as long! Criss-Cross


	23. Chapter TwentyThree: Debate

A/N: Wow. I wanted this up way earlier in the day, but whatever. Anyway, here's the newest chapter, and sorry Bittah, no real action, unless you count verbal stuff. lol Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. I'm exhausted right now. And get this! I wrote like crazy yesterday afternoon thinking I wouldn't get to write while my granny was here, but she didn't end up ever coming! lol Anyway, I'm sure none of you are complaining about it! lol

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney, nor any of their characters. Also, Jittery belongs to Jittery and Marsh belongs to Myya Conlon.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Debate**

Wicked laid his head in his hands, sighing. He sat in the Duane Street Lodging House with a few of his men, watching Kelly's band with a defeated expression. They hadn't voted yet, but it was obvious as to which way the vote would go.

Rubbing his temples, he listened to Racetrack Higgins speak.

"Do we's all wanna die? I'se mean, we'se already at da edge an' loosin' membahs wit'out fightin'. So why we's gotta go cause moah a us ta die?"

"'Cuz dey'll kill yas all off if yas don'. Eiddah way we's all die. An' if we figh', den we's got moah a a chance at livin'! An' even if we's all die, den at least we'd a gone down in glory! Not like we's cowoids hidin'!" Wicked shouted, sick of sitting back and taking the abuse from the Manhattan boys and girls. Glaring around at all of them, he sighed. "Do yas wanna jus' sit heah an' let dem kill us all off! fk dat t'ought! Cuz dey's already stawted! Look at da empty bed in heah. Da one dat jus' yestaday was occupied! How many moah Blinks is it gonna take foah yas ta jus' put an' end ta it an' fight!"

Wicked hadn't realized he was on his feet talking until Kelly shoved him back onto the bunk he'd been sitting on. With an angry sigh, he glared as Jack began to speak.

"Dat may be all true Wicked, but how can you'se get off sayin' dat we's got moah a a chance at livin' if we's fight? Dat only puts us in harm path moah often! An' it's bettah tad a smawt dan an idiot! An' dey won' kill all a us off! Dey can' possibly do it!"

Jack's newsies cheered at his small speech, but Wicked stood back up, and holding up his hand for silence, he began his debate back to Jack and the rest of Manhattan. 

"So's ya wanna die cowoids! Is dat what makes a Manhattan newsie! Bein' a cowoid! Now I'se seein' foah da foist time why Spot'd send some a da new Brookies down heah. Cuz dey weren' tough a'nough foah Brooklyn! Is dat da truth! Are ya gonna prove 'im righ'! An' ya're righ' Kelly. Dey won't kill us all off. Dey'll jus' kill a'nough a us dat we's got no choice but ta give in ta dem! Ya heah me! We's'll have no choice!"

He stared silently out at the Manhattan boys and girls for a minute, before rounding on Jack. "An' da yas know who one a da ones ta die'll be, Cowboy? Do yas!...Do any a yas!..." He looked out, and picking the face of Kit Kat out of the crowd, he walked over and kneeled before her. "Da you'se know Kit Kat?" He looked her straight in the eye with his gray eyes giving her a sympathetic look. Standing, he walked back to Kelly, and shoved a finger deep into his chest, saying, "You'se Kelly. Ya're da leadah 'round dese pawts. So'se you'se'll be one a da ones ta die. If not one a da foists. Are ya ready ta die, Cowboy?" 

Wicked's eyes held nothing but a serious, questioningly look. He wasn't playing any games, he was dead serious about what he was saying. But he couldn't help but feel a tad satisfied at Jack's reaction. Kelly, who was two inches shorter than Wicked's six feet was thinking over the words, and as Cowboy chewed his lip, he heard the other newsies begin to whisper behind him.

"Well Kelly? Ya ready ta die?" he asked again, his voice dripping with the smirk that he was trying his dnedest to keep from his face. 

Glaring at Wicked, Jack responded, "I'se'd rathah die dan live undah Triggah's rule."

"Den you'se should figh' Kelly. Fightin' yas at least got a chance ta live if yas can win an' beat Triggah."

"Wicked, you'se a muttonhead! Fightin'll only get us all killed fastah! Dey're moah a dem dan dere are a us!"

"Ya tell 'im Cowboy!" Mush exclaimed, reminding them all of the dead Blink. All of Jack's newsies nodded in agreement. Sighing angrily, Wicked opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by someone slamming on the lodging house door.

"Open da fkin' doah!" Jittery's voice screamed from below. Nobody had realized that she was missing, and looking quickly around the room, Wicked noticed another missing Manhattaner. Marsh.

Taking off down the stairs with Jack and about half a dozen other Manhattan newsies, he was the first to reach the door. Throwing it open, he gasped in shock at what he found. Jitts was covered in blood, both from herself, and from the unconscious Marsh who was slung over her shoulder. Running out the door, Wicked grabbed Marsh and lifted her gently from Jittery's shoulder, realizing that she was injured worse than he thought.

"Snipeshootah! Run foah a doctah! Tell 'im ta get heah fast!" he screamed at the curly-haired boy.

Jack came out, but Wicked shook his head and motioned for Jack to hold to door open. Cradling the injured Manhattan girl to his chest, he carried her in and up to the infirmary, placing her on one of the cots, all thoughts of his battle for war gone from his head as he saw a grave Dutchy walked into the room.

An hour later, the meeting reconvened back in the bunkroom, with a doctor carefully watching over Marsh, and reassuring the terrified kids that she would live. Wicked and Jack had taken back up their places in the center, after a shaking, sobbing Jittery had told what had happened, before being tenderly gathered up in Skittery's arms and sat down in a corner of the room with him to sob.

"Do you'se see what I'se meanin' now?" Wicked asked, his tone grave. Manhattan had come near to losing their second kid within a day, and he was not about to let it happen again. "We's need ta fight. We's gotta show dese Queens goons who's boss around heah! Who's can fight jus' as good as dem!"

Small murmurs met this sentiment, but then Jack stepped forward, his rebuttal easy and confident. "We's shouldn't. An' what happened wit' Jitts an' Marsh is jus' proof a dat! If we's go inta battle, we's'll get ouahselves slaughtahed! Don' ya see dat! We's outnumbahed! An' out-weaponed! Not ta mention dey's got da old Brooklyn newsies! An' we's all know what Spot's gang was like!"

Cheers met this short speech, and Wicked scowled, a darkness coming over his tan features. Pulling his cap off and running a hand through his long brown hair, he thought hard about what to say next.

"What 'bout Blink d'ough! Hm! 'E wasn' meanin' ta fight dem! But look at what happened ta 'im! Da jumped 'im! An' 'e wasn't even ready ta fight! Would ya rathah have dat happen ta yas dan be prepared an' ready ta kick deir asses! I'm not askin' dat yas go an' do what Jitts done, but at least some good defensive-type stuff! We's Manhattan! Da great second half ta da alliance! We's gotta show dat we'se woithy a dat title!"

Jack just smirked. He could wrap this battle up easy enough. "An' what happens when dat don' woik an' we's done it all foah nothing'? Huh Wick? What happens when Triggah has us all kicked jumpin' 'is kids in ouah territory. What den?"

"Yeah!" Race shouted in agreement. "What den Wick? What happens when dere's none a us-AAAAH!" His scream rent the pre-dusk air as a heavy hand came down on his shoulder out of nowhere from the opening door. The room went dead silent as the door opened wider and the unexpected stranger stepped in.

A/N: twirls So, what do you think? Review and tell me!

Spot: _Yas gotta review an' tell us!_

lol Spot, the usual message. lol "Don't be rude!" Though, I do tend to agree with you, people MUST review! lol

**Shout Outs:**

**Angelfish: **lol I'm glad you liked it. It was fun to write, however difficult. Was it confusing at all to you? lol My best friend (who has Alleyway named and modeled after her) thought it was. She said she didn't figure out which side Marsh was on until the very end. And I know! lol He's SO terrible! Though, you'll see something about him in the next chappie…lol And don't worry, Striker will probably get her revenge! lol And what are you confused about? Any suggestions on how I can make it clearer? I'm wide open to suggestions. And you'll see what I'm planning…smirks the Conlon smirk Ain't I cruel? And yes, there's another cliffhanger at the end of this one too! I happen to LOVE cliffhangers! lol Though, I update a lot, so it can't be THAT bad. Teehee…Anyway, keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep writing!

**Whisper: **Criss-Cross is the riskiest. And I wanna see how it plays out too! (Though, I already know most of it for the most part…) And I'm writing as fast as I can! lol And I know! It's terrible about Blink! But it looks like you'll have to wait even longer to see how Manhattan will vote. lol Ain't I the meanest!

**Skater: **Glad you think so! lol I enjoy double post times. Because then I feel like I'm giving you guys more for your time and patience. Unfortunately today's not one of those days. sad face lol Yeah. TONS of violence. But, well, it had to be done. Not to mention it was a nice break from the sad chapters and the sappy chapters, and all that jazz. lol Every now and then you just have to get some mind-numbing violence in to still it all. And I'm glad you liked both chapters!

**Bittah:** Yay! I'm glad you liked it! And you're totally up there with us Conlons. I mean, you're practically family. Or maybe you are…raises eyebrows in that "who knows?"/twilight zone way And yeah, I was sad that you had to stab her. But at least she lived! lol And, well, you'll see, it'll all play out in the end… But, as with Blink dying, it had to be done. Glad you liked both chappies! Can't wait for more of your fic! Post soon!

Spot: _So'se, is dis da pawt wheah we remind dem ta review an' den leave?_

Yuppers! So, to everyone, REVIEW PLEASE! lol Much love to all of you that do! You really make my days! Criss-Cross


	24. Chapter TwentyFour: Kattie's Final Hour

A/N: Yay! It's finally up! Whew! For some reason this chapter was REALLY hard to write. At least in the start and middle. The final bit (last 4 or 5 paras) just flowed. Anyway, sorry I didn't write more tonight. But anyway, please read and review! And expect several chapters tomorrow. Since I've 4 hours of riding in a car. Meaning much writing. Anyway, much love to all!

Disclaimer: I do no own Newsies, nor its character. Also, Bullet belongs to Runaway, and Tyrant belongs to Air.

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Kattie's Final Hour**

Criss-Cross nodded to the boys as she stepped back through the kitchen door, her old saddlebag strap slung over her shoulder. She saw smirks creep up on both boys' faces, and couldn't help but smile herself.

"Off ta Brooklyn den?" Tyrant asked, his voice low and rich. She nodded again, and the three start off, heading back to her old home. 

Outside, Bullet tried to take her bag from her, but Criss-Cross waved him away saying, "I've carried this bag with me for a long time all on my own, and over much longer distances that just here to Brooklyn. I think I can manage this short trip."

He sighed, a small pouty look on his face, and so she handed it over, stating in a faux sigh-filled voice, "But if you feel you must carry it, then go ahead."

With a grin he took it, but a puzzled light flickered into his eyes, and he reached out to touch her shoulder. Tracing the two obvious letters in the tattoo, the S and C, he asked, "What's dat?"

She sighed slightly, but gave him a warm smile, responding, "Oh, that's nothing. Something I simply had Henna tattoo onto me because it represents my old crowd. From back in the west."

He nodded, not questioningly further. Criss-Cross sighed inwardly in relief, thanking whatever deity was listening that Trigger had instilled in his "subjects" a no-questions policy, typical of any gang. However, the damage by his first question was already done, and as the three started walking towards her old home in Brooklyn, the SC on her shoulder began to tingle, and her mind was lost in memories of the past…

_Criss-Cross sat down on the bed in Spot's room, biting back more tears that threatened, like those of the past four days. She had just finished talking with Chris Bates, Frisk's younger brother. He was two years older than her, and the first person besides Spot that she'd seen since they'd heard the news of her surrogate sister's death. _

Spot had leant her his room, allowing her the privacy of a door, and the ability to sob freely without worrying about someone seeing. He understood how close she'd been to Frisk, and he also understood that she was a Conlon, and not one to like being seen sobbing and weak.

Lying back on the bed, Criss-Cross breathed deep to stop herself from reverted back to the tears she'd taken comfort in. Hearing the running footsteps on the cobblestones out the window, she decided to see which newsie it was. Standing, she walked over and on the tips of her toes, managed to peer out the window, only to see a bleeding Advantage running up.

Eyes wide and surprised to see the slash across his face, she rushed out of Spot's room and down to the front door of the lodging house. Opening it just as he got to the threshold.

"Advantage! What happened ta yas!" she exclaimed as she watched how fast the blood was rushing. It was amazing that his scarring had been minimal.

Advantage didn't respond, he simply shot her a glare and shoved past her, heading straight for the great room where Spot sat, gambling, smoking, and joking with the other guys on the cold April evening. Criss-Cross followed, utterly confused, but a feeling of pure dread hit her stomach, and she knew that whatever was going on was not good.

Walking in, she saw Spot stand , a serious look on his face, as he walked over towards Advantage. He jerked his head upwards, cluing his friend to go upstairs. The two headed off, and hesitating a moment, Criss-Cross followed, ending up standing outside the door as Spot and Advantage talked, hints of their conversations drifting out. Snippets about Queens, and Trigger Jones, and something about Spunk turning on them. And then something about Bates and herself. Chewing her lip, she heard Spot's yell of rage and ran to grab her bag.

Since staying in Spot's room, she'd kept all of her stuff in a saddlebag she'd stolen off of a cart soon after taking on the role as one of Spot's newsies. Stuffing the quilt inside it, she threw it out the open window right and yanked her cabby hat onto her head as her furious older brother stormed into the small room.

In her three years in Brooklyn's lodging house, Criss-Cross had come to both adore Spot, and fear him. When he was in a good mood, he was often sentimental and loving, not to mention brotherly, towards his little sister. But get him mad, or get on his bad side, and he was more likely to pound your head in. 

Stepping back slightly, she looked defiantly up into his eyes, but in her expression was a searching look, begging the Spot of four days before to come back. But he didn't, instead, his expression just became more menacing, as he grabbed her around the throat and shoved her hard into the wall.

Criss-Cross's eyes drew wide as she felt his grip on her throat tighten. "Wheah's yer boy Chris? An' what's ya been tellin' 'im?"

Eyes clouding in confusion, she replied, "'E left 'bout five minutes ago. An' 'e an' I'se talkin' 'bout Frisk. Dat's all. Spot, what's goin' on?"

Her brother tightened his grip more, and raised his cane, "As if you'se don' already know! I'se can' believe you! Playin' Brooklyn foah a sap! How dare yas!"

"Spot! I'se didn'!" she said, but he brought his cane straight done towards her head, not hearing what she was saying. She felt the metal bite hard into her skin and winced slightly, his grip tightening even more on her throat to the point where she could barely breathe.

"Don' lie ta me, bitch!" he said, and brought his cane down towards her head, but her speed surpassed his, and she rammed a small bony fist hard into his stomach, causing him to release her throat and hunch over slightly, his blow falling short.

Taking her chance, she dodge passed him and ran for the door. Ducking under Advantage's arm as he tried to block her escape. As he reached out to grab her, she socked him hard in the jaw and took off, sprinting down the hall, and not even bothering with the stairs, she jumped over the railing, and tucking into a roll as she landed, she was on her feet in an instance and out the door, her foot leaving Brooklyn's last step outside as she heard Spot's voice scream out in fury behind her, "I'se gonna kill yas! Ya heah dat! Nevah set foot in Brooklyn again a I'se'll kill yas Kattie!"

The tears hit from moments before overflowed in a torrent as her boot left the last step of her last permanent home for what she thought would be forever. Grabbing her bag, she fled Brooklyn, eventually running as far as Colorado four years later, where she finally stopped for a few months, before, surprisingly, running home…

Criss-Cross was shocked out of her thoughts as her foot touched the familiar bottom step of the Brooklyn Lodging House. So many times had she relived her final step off of it. And she could still remember the exact feeling of it. Stepping on it now, a different sensation swept through. One of both right and wrong. One of both home, and enemy's fort. One of joy, and sorrow. And one that reminded her of something that could be summed up in two words: Spot Conlon.

A/N: Yes! It was another memory. And most likely my final one of the book. But anyway, what did you think? I don't like this memory personally, because it's like the last one to me, really sad. Mainly because I'm really attached to both Criss-Cross and Spot, and I'm in love with their relationship, so… Anyway, please review!

**Shout Outs:**

**Skater: **lol Ain't I the meanest! And I didn't even pick up after the cliffhanger in this chappie! Now that's just gotta be worse! lol But at least I've gotten you curious…Keeps you reading! Teehee!

**Angelfish:** lol Yupper. It's a fun word! I've used it for years. And yes, it was another cliffhanger. And I'm mean, cuz I didn't go back to it in this chapter. But you have to admit, you probably knew I'd do that. And tell me your guess! lol Cuz maybe you're right! Teehee! And who knows how they'll vote! (I still don't! lol) And I will keep going if you'll keep reviewing!

**Bittah: **Yes! You gotta love cliffhangers! It works perfectly to hook readers and keep them reading your story! It's okay, you got two sections up today! And that makes me a happy Criss-Cross! Though, I still want more! lol And I'm writing as fast as me lil finfahs'll allow!

Spot: _Review!_

Spot…Don't be rude! But yes people…REVIEW!

Spot: _And you'se call me rude? Jeez…_

lol Good one. And I know I'm mean and abusive and all that jazz, but I'm yer sis, you gotta love me. And all of our fans. Anywho, I'll have a bunch up tomorrow night hopefully. 4 hour carried ya know! Criss-Cross


	25. Chapter TwentyFive: New Yawk Newsies

A/N: Yay! New chappie! Anyway, I worked on another chappie today to, and I was gonna try to get it up, but I also want to do yoga before I go to bed, and I'm currently exhausted, so I decided I'll just put it up tomorrow. Anyway, happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of its characters, Disney –unfortunately- does. Also, Gip belongs to Gip, and Jittery to Jittery.

**Chapter Twenty-Five: New Yawk Newsies**

"Dat won't happen. Because yas not alone," the voice of Corsets rang out behind Race's head as the owner of the hand, a sheepishly grinning Alleyway, stepped into the room, followed by Corsets, Henna, and a gaggle of ten to fifteen Harlem boys.

She gave her brother a quick hug, and then sauntered over to her boy, Wicked, and stole a long, hard kiss in front of the whole of the Duane Street Lodging House. As he pulled back, she saw a slightly puzzled look in his eye, but a small smile was playing on his lips. A tad surprised, she found a huge smirk on her own face.

Something had changed in Alleyway as she'd watched Criss-Cross. She'd never exactly been timid, but suddenly she had the urge to do something completely outrageous, and totally flamboyant. She was sick of her own tendency to sit back and let the action pass her by. She was ready to do something to be noticed.

Glancing over at Corsets, she saw the Harlem girl smirking right back. Corsets gave her a nod of approval, and she turned her gaze to Kelly, saying, "Wells…? You'se not commentin'. Oh, an' Coils is out roundin' up da rest a da Hawlem boys."

Jack nodded, looking around at the Harlem kids gathered, not knowing what to say. Finally, after had deliberation, he spoke, "We's still out-numbahed, an' dey's still gots da bettah fightahs."

A boy next to Henna –who went by the name Revenge- snorted and laughed, and in a scoffing tone asked, "You'se callin' Hawlem an' Manhattan weak, Jack?"

"True as what yas said may be Mistah Kelly," Corsets said, "dere's one t'ing yas foigot. They got no reason ta fight, meanin' we'se got an advantage so ta speak."

Kelly smirked, what Corsets said was 100 true, but it was also a lot easier to come up with a rebuttal to. _She's shoah pretty. But dat don' always come wit' brains,_ he thought, _She's shoulda jus' left it wheah Revenge stopped…_

"An' ouah reason is?" he asked. 

"Dat's a good question, Jack," Alleyway answered. "But unfoitunately foah you'se, I'se got t'ree reasons s ta whys we's should figh'. Take yer pick at dem.

"Foist," she said, holding up her index finger, "Dere's da death a Spot Conlon. Spot was yer best friend, Cowboy, an' a leadah an' a protectahfoah us all. 'E took care a every one a ouah asses at one point in time, an' 'is death desoives ta be avenged!"

Murmurs and nods greeted this statement, but Alleyway wasn't anywhere near done yet. Holding up two fingers now, she continued, "Second, dere's da cur'nt an' fucha future pride a Manhattan an' Hawlem at risk heah. If yas don' fight, ya'll lose Manhattan an' Hawlem ta Triggah anyway! I'se nevah seen two proudah boroughs –'cept p'rhaps Brooklyn. An' t'ink about what'll happen tad a rest a New Yawk if one moah borough falls! Dey'll have no chance! New Yawk depends on Manhattan an' Hawlem! We's can' jus' let dem all down! Dey's need us!"

Cheers and shouts of approval greeted this reason, from all sides –Central Park, Harlem and Duane Street kids. Wicked was cheering especially hard, and he regarded Alleyway with a proud look as she turn to Jack, a smug smirk set firmly on her face.

Jack raised his hand, calling for silence, and once it came to the room full of newsies, he stepped up close to her, and looking down from his greater height, said, "I'se t'ought you'se said yas got t'ree reasons!"

Alleyway's smirk turned into a look of pity, the kind a person of high intelligence gives a simple village idiot. Then, she spoke. This time her words really impacted the kids who sat and listened, touching them each in their own way, but hitting them all hard with emotions.

"I'se do, Cowboy. My thoid reason is one dat effects all a us, 'specially you'se, Jack. Yas see, two weeks ago, when Spot got moidahed, I'se suddenly found out an' undahstood something; about me best friend in da woild, Criss-Cross. I'se loined dat she's Spot Conlon's lil sistah. A lot a you'se found dat out too.

"Now, you'se probley wondahin' what dis has ta do wit' goin' ta war. An' it's actually got everythin' ta do wit' it. Now den, most a you'se don' know dis, but Criss-Cross Kat Conlon came back ta New Yawk from Colahradah 'bout fouah days ago. Aftah hearin' 'bout her bruddah's death. She's hadn' had any time ta even grieve.

"An now', 'bout an houah ago, she's left Hawlem wit' two a Triggah's boys ta go ta Brooklyn, ta go an' save Manhattan, Hawlem, an' da rest a New Yawk. An' ta avenge her bruddah's death. Even at da risk a losin' her own life.

"Now she's all alone in Brooklyn, savin' yer sorry asses! One kid against t'ree boroughs! An' you'se won' even do nothin' ta help her! She's just a shoit goil facin' da fury a Triggah an' 'is awmy foah all a yas!

"Nows, you'se t'inkin' 'She's a Conlon d'ough!' An' a coise she is! But dat's not all she is! She's a New Yawk newsies, dnit! Jus' like all a yas! An' she ain' even lived in New Yawk foah months! But she's moah a one dan you'se! An' she's'll fight until she fkin' dies if it means she's goin' down foah New Yawk, an' like a New Yawk newsie! Proud! Strong! Tough! An' most a all loyal!

"She's goin' down in a hellish blaze a fiah an' flame! She's goin' down as every true New Yawk newsie should! Fightin' foah da rest a New Yawk! An' she's doin' it foah all a yas! She's walkin' inta dat blaze foah yas! An' she's probably won't make it out alive! But dat don' mattah ta her! An' it don' mattah ta me neiddah! Cuz I'se wanna go down foah New Yawk an' as a true New Yawk newsie wit' her!"

Cheers as loud as those from the Irving Hall rally during the strike sprung up all around the room at Alleyway's final shouted words. But above all the hubbub, Jack asked her, "She's really gone ta Brooklyn?"

Nodding solemnly, her triumphant grin suddenly disappearing, she replied, "She's did. But she's told me ta tell yas not ta go lookin' foah her, an' messin' up her plan an' getting' yerself killed. Cuz yer da last dat Manhattan's got. An' ta use da head she's knows yas gots. A'ight?"

He nodded as Henna stepped into the center where they stood, and shouted to the slowly ceasing cheers, "What d'ya say Manhattan!"

Wicked, Racetrack, Gip, and Jittery all shouted in unison, "I'se say we's vote already! An' get dis t'ing ovah wit'!"

A/N: So, what did you think? Please review and tell me! I'm too tired to do SOs. So I'll do double next time, okay? Criss-Cross

Spot: _You'se so lazy…_

Aw, I know…


	26. Chapter TwentySix: Trigger an' Kattie

A/N: Okay, I don't know how good this chapter is. I think it's good up until the last bit. But anyway, tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor any of their characters, Disney does. Also, Tyrant belongs to Air, Bullet to Runaway, and Griff to Gip.

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Trigger an' Kattie**

Trigger was in a bad mood that night when Bullet and Tyrant came into the lodging house. Spunk had been beaten while in their own territory, and Bittah – who was supposed to be with the Manhattan group- had saved her. 

Glad as he was that Bittah had saved the fourteen year-old, it meant that she had purposefully disobeyed him and broken off from her group to be on her own. His day had turned worse when he'd mouthed off to her about it, and then slapped her hard, only to receive a black eye in return.

His day had not improved at all since. First the Central Park group had come back with not even as much news as a fist fight. Then Bittah's original group had come back only to tell him that no Manhattan newsies had been on the streets all day.

Now, as he watched Bullet and Tyrant walk through the door without the group from Harlem he'd hoped for, his rage and fury from the full day final explode. His targets were the duo he'd sent forth as ambassadors.

"You'se didn' bring _anybody_ back wit' yas!" he yelled angrily, mouthing off as was his typical fashion. "What da fk has da two a you'se been doin' all dn d-"

His shouting stopped dead as his eyes caught hold of the lone exquisite figure who followed the duo through the door.

"We's didin' come back completely empty-handed," Bullet said, smirking at Trigger's lightly dropped jaw.

Trigger stared for another minute, before two fingers lightly touched the bottom of his open jaw, and pushed it gently shut. As the girl retracted her hand, he softly grabbed it, and giving it a pull, caused her to step forward, until she was only a half-foot away from him.

She lost some of her commanding air as he saw that she stood 10 inches shorter than him. Regarding her, a smirk came to his face as he realized this feminine beauty was now his subject, and thus, his to do whatever he pleased with. 

Holding her breath, Criss-Cross tried not to shudder as Trigger slid his arm around her waist, resting his palm on the base of her spine.

_Who da fkin' hell does 'e t'ink 'e is!_ she thought furiously. _'E t'inks 'e can jus' walk all ovah anyone undah 'is control! Damit, 'e's is wrong!_

She had trouble hiding her thorough disgust as he began sliding his hand up and down her back. But instead of going with her strong impulse to deck him hard, she afforded him with a small, sly, sensual smile, and forced a spark of interest into her eye, keeping to the character she was portraying.

Trigger was actually quite handsome in truth, and had Criss-Cross not hated him, nor had she known the true, evil, despicable Trigger Jones, she would probably have liked him. He had straight, soft, black hair, that –like Jack Kelly's- was parted in the middle , and sometimes fell into his "tortured" dark, forest green eyes. He was well-muscled, with broad shoulders, and prominent forearms. His height of 6 feet 2 commanded respect, and his fine-featured face buttered girls right up.

Criss-Cross saw a glint come into Trigger's eyes as he watched her looking him up and down. He yanked her hard up against him, and leaned down to kiss her in the hard, long, commanding, daring, sure-fire, "all-that" way that all borough leaders had. 

She cringed as his lips touched hers, but thankfully only for an instant, as someone behind Trigger cleared their throat. He whipped his head around, and she peered around him as the boy spoke. 

"An' who's dis?" he asked in a gruff, low voice. Criss-Cross recognized him as a boy named Griff. He had once been the hard, cruel leader of the Bronx. Believing, as the leader before him had, that beating the kids he lorded over was the way to teach them how to be tough and learn to fight. Though, he was cautious about making sure that none of them ever became better than him or were able to overthrow him.

_What 'e's don' realize is dat all dey gotsta do is come ta Brooklyn foah a spell ta loin how ta fight…_ she thought, as she gave him the same up and down, judging look that she'd given Trigger.

Griff had a dangerous, mysterious look to him, though, like Trigger he was quite handsome, but his looks were deceiving and deadly. He was thick through the chest and arms, and girls in later centuries would describe him as having a football player build. Like Trigger, he was well-muscled, and stood near six feet tall. His dark brown hair hung in his gray eyes, that had a look to them like a sea during a storm, and she knew he was twice as deadly. A knife hung at his side, Criss-Cross remembered it from her brief –very very brief- stay in the Bronx, and could still remember how fast his hand could fly to it and have it at your throat.

Blushing politely and fluttering her eyelashes a little, she responded, "I'm Kattie. Though, I used to be called Sass –or Sassy- back in the old Midwest…"

"Nice ta meet yas," Trigger said, still holding her hard against him. "I'se Triggah Jones. Da leadah a dis heah lodgin' house, an' two uddahs. One in da Bronx, wheah Bullet an' Griff dere's from, an' one in Queens, wheah me's an' Tyrant are from. An' I'se pretty much rule the whole of New Yawk."

Cringing inwardly and cursing herself for her plan, she moved her body in even tighter against his, and then swayed her head back and forth, allowing her cheek and nose to brush his chest, while the top of her head brush his chin. Completely in character, she murmured, "So I hear. And that's why I came to your quaint little lodging house, and to meet you."

She could feel him grinning above her head, and a satisfied smirk came to her lips, that she quickly changed to a pleading, sensual smile as Trigger looked down at her. Then, he spun her to his side, and with his arm still around her waist, snapped at the watching three boys, "What are yas lookin' at! Get yer asses inta dat great room righ' now! An' Bullet, take her bag up to da goils bunkroom! An' den get Bittah ta give her a touah a da lodgin' house, an' tell her not ta foiget ta show wheah me room is. A'ight? Now get gone!"

When all three had disappeared, he walked her over to a bench lining one of the walls, and sat them both on it, rubbing his hand up and down her left thigh. Twitching her right calf in anger, she regarded him with the soft eyes of the female she was portraying. Then, watching him stare at her, she lowered her lids until her eyes were veiled, and gave a soft blush.

"So'se, miss Kattie, what's yer story?" he asked, tracing a finger lazily up to her hipbone and then further up her side.

"Well, I'm a Colorado girl, born and bred," she explained softly. "But the normal housegirl act just, well, it didn't suit me. So, I hooked up with a few boys from around town, and we formed a sort of gang you could say. Well, actually, definitely a gang. And after getting ourselves into so much trouble that the coppers were looking for us, we fled our first town, and moved onto the next, and so on and so forth. We ended up in Kentucky, with half the members we'd started out with, and in Kentucky we stayed for about half a year, having a grand old time.

"That is until the scum of a boy I had began to have affairs on me. I caught him once, and told him to never do it again. And, well, we had to flee that town the next day, as the girl he'd been with, was, well, comatose you could say. See, I'm known to be a little over-protective of my men. That doesn't mean that I'd make a girl comatose over one! And it wasn't like I knew that she was going to slip out of a second story window while we were heatedly discussing the issues of taken men. The girl was just a natural klutz, that's all.

"But never-the-less, the police thought I'd done it, so, we left Kentucky in a hurry, and soon found ourselves in Virginia. And then Connecticut, and then Delaware. And it was in Delaware that old Fellah –as we all called my boy- did it again with another girl. Now, it's not like it seems. He and I had been together for four years by this point. And most of the group was gone, it was just 5 of us then. Out of the original 20.

"And, well, I fled the group and Delaware soon after I, leaving behind the two tragic lovers, who had gotten killed by a squad of drunk goons. It was awful, and once again everyone blamed me. But oh well…" she sighed dramatically, and then gave him a fiery look. "And now I'm here, with the new name of Kattie, because, well, I can get a little, well, catty when someone else steals my man. Not to mention it's a change off of my real first name, Katherine."

"Dat's quite some story yas got dere," he said, tracing his finger alone her jawline. Leaning in to kiss her hard as he had tried to do before they were interrupted, he murmured, "A murdahress an' a cat, yas'll fit righ' in heah." 

And with Criss-Cross cringing hard, he kissed her, in the same manner she had seen her brother kiss girls before, and as he grabbed her tattooed shoulder in his calloused grip, she felt a fire along the SC, and realized the place brought more sense of her than she'd felt in years. And she felt her heart banging hard against her ribs, like it would lead her too him.

_'E's dead d'ough…_ she reminded herself, and looking over Trigger's shoulder, she saw Spot's old right-hand man Advantage walking quietly and sullenly up the stairs, and had to blink back tears from her eyes as she thought again, _'e's dead…_

A/N: Spot: _So'se what did yas t'ink? (An' yeah, I'se runnin' da show foah a minute cuz da kids in da bat'room.) Anyway, review "s'il-vous-plait" ta go French on yas. Haha! Anyways, I'se'll let da goil talk ta yas now since she's back…_

Wow! You actually said please Spot! I'm so proud! throws her arms around him in a big hug

Spot: _Aw, shove off will yas? You'se embarrassing me! An' you'se ain't even me kid sistah! shoves her gently, yet lovingly, off_

Anyway, please review, and now on to the SOs! (It's a double-rounder this time. lol)

**Shout Outs:**

**Cards: **A'ight. I'll try to get you more soon. Since my extremely eventful weekend is over. (I didn't get home until later Friday night after being out all day. Then I left before ten Saturday morning to go stay at a half-friend's house because my parents were staying at some expensive hotel. And so I got stuck with my half-friend, Marshall, who's hyper and immature and all that jazz, and then I didn't get home until nearly 1 today…) So, hopefully tomorrow! As is my typical pattern!

**Nosilla:** lol Yeah. I'll do that on y'all sometimes. It's fun. I like writing chapters in rapid succession! And it's just that I know my plotline REALLY well, so I can do that.

**Angelfish:** Glad you loved the memory! lol I did, but then again, I'm the writer. But personally I think the Spot memory's sadder than the Frisk one. lol Hopefully there'll be a next chapter button soon! Glad you liked the speech! I spent like 2 hours in the car just coming up with the little beauty. And to be honest I wasn't sure it was quite good enough. Anyways, you found out what happened to the groups, and we all know why they didn't have anything happen now. lol Poor Manhattans, they were all inside with Blink's tragedy, and the debate, and everything. Anyway, what ever happened to Runaway? Well, we'll find out soon hopefully. Keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep on going!

**Skater: **lol I forgive you. I know how slappy happy one can get when it's late. And I'm glad you love it! Makes me a happy Criss-Cross! And I feel like I'm doing my job as a writer!

**Bittah: **Well, I'll try to get more up soon. As in tomorrow after school. I'm babysitting, but the kids gonna be over here, and I've got more than enough Pooh movies to keep her happy. So, I'll plot her in front of the TV and write. How about that? Happy Bittah! lol And just a sidenote from me to you, you're TOTALLY what keeps me writing. Now I demand more of your fic!

**Air: **Yay! I'm so happy! More reviews! does twirl with Air YAY! Anyway, glad you like it! I live for the approval of my readers and reviewers! And I'll update as fast as I can for all those of you reviewers! I just had a crazy weekend this weekend, and I wasn't in the house for 12 whole hours over the course of it. And 8-10 of those hours were devoted to sleep, and 2 to yoga, so… Yeah…

**Chapter 24 SOs:**

**Nosilla: **Yes! I'll update alright! Just, don't kill me! lol And no, how long DID it take you to read this? I wanna know! And more (at least one chappie, if not two) shall b on its way tomorrow! I promise!

**Cards: **Yay! I've got you hooked! does happy dance

**Air: **Yup. I used Tyrant. You sent him into the CC, and he fit in with the Trigger bunch, so, he got used! And I do? lol Well, not this weekend…But anyway I can't believe you shirked studying for a test for me!

Spot: _I'se can…An' you'se would too Criss-Cross._

Very true…lol Anyway, I'm glad you did! You're so kind. And because of it, I will make sure tomorrow is a double-update day! WAHOO! And you might wanna watch out not to make Spot mad. lol He's got a MEAN right-hook.

Spot: _I'se da King a Brooklyn. What d'yas expect!_

You mean to say WERE the King of Brooklyn. You're dead, membah? Anyway glad you like it, and PLEASE review!

**Bittah: **lol I love 'em too. They're just fun to write. Though, I think I'm done with them now. sad face But oh well. We'll see what all comes later on. And I'm sorry it didn't mean 4 chapters. Wish it had…But it didn't…sighs Oh well. I'm gonna be posting double tomorrow for you all. I've already officially decided that. Plus, Spot's fist helped some on that decision. watches Spot shake fist at her out of corner of eye Heh…Heh… You guys are such slave drivers. lol

Spot: _Damn straight!_

Okay, well, I'll let y'all go! Please make sure you review! Prepare for double posts tomorrow! Criss-Cross…and Spot

PS- Okay, you may notice that some of the cuss words have asterisk in them. But it's just because that's the way they end up on my site. (Certain words are censored…) And I post there before I post on here, because, well, that's where I do that formatting (bolds, underlines, italics, etc…) because it has to be done a certain way. And I'm just too lazy to fix it before it goes on here…lol


	27. Chapter TwentySeven: Say 'I'

A/N: Okay, this is a shorter chapter, but I had trouble writing it and making it long. Anyway, read and tell me what you think!

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Say 'I'**

_"I'se say we's vote!"…_

"A'ight! A'ight!" Jack Kelly shouted to the kids. He was suddenly exhausted, and just wanted to get the vote over with, though, most everybody already knew which way it was going to go. Watching the kids sitting on bunks in front of him, he realized that was exactly what they were. A bunch kids, with no family except each other. And for the first time, he truly understood why they needed to go to war…

_All dey got's one anuddah,_ he thought. _All dey got's dis lodgin' house. If dey lose d'ose, den dey's got nuthin' left…_

Holding up his hand for silence, he said, "A'ight. Let's keep dis simple. If you'se wanna go inta dis war, den say 'I' now!"

A small silence followed, but then Alleyway, Wicked, and the rest of the Central Park Lodging House spoke up. And then, the first "I" came from a Manhattan kid. As Mush stood, and turned to look at the rest of the crowd.

"I said 'I' for Blink. An' Marsh upstaiahs who may be dyin' foah all we's know. An' mostly foah Criss-Cross, fightin' on her own for all a us," he said.

"I heah dat!" Henna shouted, clapping, as she and the rest of Harlem through in their 'I's, and walked to the center to join those who had already said theirs.

Jittery, still covered in blood, stepped forward. "I!" she said firmly, and joined the ranks of those ready to fight. Slowly, others began to come forward, and saying "I!" join their ranks. Until finally everyone in the room was in.

"A'ight den, looks like we'se goin' ta war!" Wicked said, grinning widely at his girl. And then, slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her in against him, and kissed her in a long, victorious kiss, reveling in being with his girl. He could feel that something had changed within her, and given her usual humor fighter attitude a fire that mirrored the one that burned within Criss-Cross, and he understood how good of friends the two were. 

Jack watched the two for a moment, before placing a hand on Wicked's shoulder, and gave him a look that said clearly "Come with me now. We need to talk and plan." The other boy nodded and gave Alleyway a quick kiss good-bye, telling her he'd be back in a moment. But Jack simply said, "She's should come too."

The pair nodded, and followed Jack out of the room, and down a hall to his "office". A broom closet that he'd dragged a stolen school desk into, and had a couple of boxes for chairs. And the planning of the war began.

Gip watched as Curls lead in the rest of the Harlem boys with a grin on her face, and a young Tumbler clinging to her skirts. Curls yanked a licorice stick out of her pocket, and handed it to him, grinning as he took it hungrily. 

"So'se, looks like everyone made deir decisions on da war. What'd yas decide?" she asked.

Gip realized she was the only one who ha heard Curls, but she was the type that didn't talk much, so she pretended like she hadn't heard either. But Curls just tapped her on the shoulder and asked her question again. 

Sighing, Gip responded, "We's goin' ta war. Mainly foah Criss-Cross."

Curls nodded solemnly, but the grin playing in her eyes suggested that she was more than just excited. Gip gave her a small smile, but then retreated to the infirmary to check on Marsh, but Specs followed her out, and caught her by the arm in the hallway.

He kissed her softly, before asking her, "You'se okay?"

She nodded, but the tears slowly filling her eyes betrayed her. Laying her head against his chest, she said in a soft voice, "It's jus' dat da people I care about are in trouble. An' da only t'ing I can t'ink is, 'what if me bruddah Vice is next?'"

Specs stroked her wavy dark hair, and contemplated his answer for a second. "Wells, it's a chance we gotta take. An' Vice knows yas love 'im. So 'e'll be careful not ta get 'imself hoit. 'E cares about yas too much ta let anythin' hoit yas, even if it's 'im getting' hoit. But dere's somethin' else, isn't dere?"

She nodded again, and the tears from her eyes overflowed down her cheeks. "Blink's dead by da hand a Griff. Da ex-Bronx leadah. Yas know who 'e is…"

Specs nodded as a fire boiled up inside him. Griff was an evil bastard, who had been in love with Gip. But when she wouldn't consent to being with him, because she didn't love him, he'd taken her by force. Or, in other words, he'd raped her, leaving her pregnant, with a baby that had miscarriaged when she'd gotten to Manhattan.

Griff knew where Gip was, and fighting with Queens, he had a good chance at taking her back. "I'se won' let 'im get yas. I promise Gip. You'se know dat. Now let's go check on Marsh. Hope she's doin' bettah…"

He gently wiped the tears off her face and gave her a soft kiss. Then, taking her hand in his, the two walked down the hall to where Marsh lay, just waking to hear the news of the war. And Gip couldn't help but wonder, _how's she gonna react?_

A/N: So…How was it! Oh, and please review!

**Shout Outs:**

**Angelfish: **Glad you liked it! lol I honestly wasn't sure whether or not the chapter was good. And I thought that maybe the story would've made it bad, but apparently it didn't. Yeah, the ending was sad. And a little lame and redundant to other chapter endings I thought…But oh well…It's kind of foreshadowing something that happens later on.

**Bittah:** Yeah. Ya did! lol I was so glad I had your character to use there. Because I hate Trigger's guts, so I had to make something happen to him. lol And you already did bug me! lol And you didn't write enough! I demand more fic! Or I will not post mine. And this time I'm serious! lol (We know me though…teehee)

**Skater:** lol I've done that with other people's stories. Course, I have no life and I'm insane so…I dunno if that counts as justification for you. lol And I'm working on the next chapter as we speak! lol I thought it was sad, but I didn't think anyone else would. lol I thought I was just overly attached to the characters. Teehee…

Spot: _Now go review!_

PLEASE. lol Spot, you really need to work on your manners. Anyway, please review! Criss-Cross


	28. Chapter TwentyEight: The Conlon Box

A/N: I know, I know. I promised two chapters yesterday, but, well, this one's long. Plus, I wanted to give it its own day. lol Anyway, I hope you really enjoy this one, because I know I do. And I'm just gonna skip the Disclaimer from now on though. I've said it MORE than enough times. lol Happy reading! Please review!

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Conlon Box**

Criss-Cross sighed as Trigger showed her into the girls bunkroom. Back when she'd lived in Brooklyn four years prior, all the kids had slept in one room. Except for Spot. He'd taken his own room when he'd turned twelve and really gotten into girls.

Before being brought upstairs, she had suffered through another hour with Trigger, and then introduction to the new cast of Brooklyn newsies. The pairs were obvious. Cards (whom she recognized from her native Queens, but who did not recognize her) was paired with Ice, Advantage had a girl named Bittah, Spunk (who Criss-Cross also knew) was paired with the quiet Valleys, Skater was paired with a sandy-haired boy by the name of Skinner, and Striker was paired with Bullet. Tyrant, Griff, and Alibi were all single. 

She found her bag of things on a bed by the window, and looked out it. She saw smoke drifting up from under a hat-brim below, and the rest of Brooklyn shined at her with a light equal to the sun in her opinion.

She loved Brooklyn, more than any other place she'd ever been, maybe besides Colorado. It always made her sad to think that she hadn't been able to call it home for so long. However, that was about to change.

Reaching down the front of her bodice, she pulled out a key that would lead her to something only she and Spot knew about. A place where they could always go whenever they were in trouble. She tied the thin black leather strap it was on around her hand in an "X" like Spot had shown her how to do years before, the key hanging just under her wrist. It was her mark as Spot's younger sister, and it represented her nickname.

Criss-Cross opened her bag, and making sure no one else was around, pulled off the skirt, and pulled on a pair of black pants that had black suspenders, and changed into her normal knee-high socks and black boots. She left the red top and bodice on, revealing her tattoo with pride, but she dropped the silk scarf into her bag with slight disgust.

The last thing to go on was her charcoal-colored cabby hat. She stuffed her now short, auburn hair up inside it, and left the lodging house, headed for the Brooklyn Bridge. There lay an empty warehouse, and that was where she was headed.

Slipping silently in through the door, she made her way through old crates to the far back wall. Walking up a flight of steps, she suddenly noticed that footprints lay on them in the thick dust, and they were recent. Puzzled, she continued her way up the steps.

Stepping through an open doorway, she saw with relief that the box sat where it always had, on the right side of the table that lay under the window. Walking slowly over to it, she didn't know what she'd find. Or even why she'd come, except for with a hope that somehow Spot had left her a trick as to how to win the war. 

_Like 'eda known what'd be goin' on…Stop bein' such a muttonhead goil…_ she thought, shaking her head at how ridiculous she was being. The part of her with an actual brain told her to just leave, it wasn't worth getting choked up over. But her heart and soul told her otherwise.

Stepping towards the box, she realized that it had been touched recently, and furrowed her brows. _Why's would someone be up heah?_ She stepped towards it quickly, and inserting the key the hung under her left wrist, she gave it a twist and heard the lock click open.

The Box was an old jewelry box that she and Spot had found floating in the river one day, the keys in a bag that was tied to it. It had served the two well, and you could tell it by the way the roses carved on top had faded due to handling.

Criss-Cross pulled the key out, and the box immediately sprang open, sending a few notes flying to the floor. The thing was utterly full of them. Picking up the fallen letters, she unfolded one. She noticed that small watermarks doused the paper every here and there, and running her hand over it, she began to read.

_Sweet Kattie-  
I'se so sorry. So completely sorry. I'se never meant ta make you's run dat far. I'se so sorry. Jus come back ta Brooklyn, please. I'se don't blame you's for anythin anymore. Please, jus come home. I'se can't say how sorry I'se is enough. I'se really, truly, sincerely sorry. Jus come home.  
Anyways, I'se guess I'se writin another letter askin you's ta come home. But I'se jus wish you's would. And dat everythin could go back ta normal. I'se so sorry sis. What kind a brother does what I'se did? You's don't know how sorry I'se is. Jus wish I'se could tell you's dat now. But I'se guessin it's too late.  
You's shoulda seen what Ad did the other day. He was jumpin over barrels in da street, tryin ta cheer everyone up, and he fell right in a puddle. You's woulda loved ta laugh with da rest a us. Though, you's woulda been da one ta help him up. You's always were da nicer of the two of us. Carin about everybody. Jus wish you's would still care about me…  
I'se so sorry Kattie. I'se really is. Jus wish I'se realized how much you's mean to me before now.  
I'se love you's, for now and forever.  
Your brother  
Spot_

Criss-Cross bit her lip, and closed her eyes tight, trying not to let the tears welling up in the fall. Folding the letter back up, she set it on the table, whispering to it, and the dead Spot, where ever he lay, "I'se still love you'se too."

Picking up another letter, she began to read, Spot's voice playing over in her head:

_Kattie-girl:  
We's all missin you's. Come home soon. I'se so sorry about what I'se did. You's can never imagine how awful I'se feelin…_

From there it was a similar repeat of the next, tear stains dotting it as well, and most of the notes from there on out were the same. Each had a story in it, some small, some large. In some Spot seemed actually happy, and cheerful. But in others he seemed ready to curl up and die. And in a few, he'd written about girls he was with, and Criss-Cross realized how much of a boy her brother truly was.

A sudden voice behind her made her jump out of her skin. She hadn't heard anybody coming up behind her. _But den again, I'se pretty inta readin' all da notes…_

"Criss-Cross?" it asked. She turned slowly, and found herself staring up at a rather surprised, yet happy Advantage.

She nodded. "Yeah. 'S me," she replied. 

"But…What…How?" he asked, at a complete loss for words.

Laughing, she grinned sadly at him and answered, "Wells, I'se got news an' jus' came. I'se ain't 'bout ta let Spot die unavenged. An' I'se ain't gonna let Brooklyn be ruled by Triggah. So'se, I'se had ta come back…"

"But…Why? Why da yas still care 'bout Spot?" he asked, clearly puzzled. Walking over to him, she set her hands on his shoulders, and look long and hard into his eye before answering.

"Cuz 'e's me bruddah…An' siblin's is siblin's. No mattah what…An' even d'ough 'e may have run me outta Brooklyn, I'se still love 'im cuz 'e's me bruddah. An' no amount of bad deeds can change dat foah me. 'E did a ton while I'se in Brooklyn ta moah dan ovah run a couplah bad yeahs."

"Four bad yeahs?" Ad asked, a questioning look on his face. She rolled her eyes at him and nodded.

"Yeah. Even fouah yeahs gets ovah-run. 'Sides, I'se not da type ta hold a grudge…"

"You'se truly are remawkable. Yas know dat Criss-Cross? An' a Conlon ta boot."

She blushed a little. "T'anks. Now, d'you'se t'ink yas could leave me alone foah a little while?"

Advantage nodded, not even asking why she wanted to be alone. Turning, he left her to her thoughts and memories, as a silent tear slid down her cheek, landing in the layers of dust that coated the table. She sank into a chair, allowing her tears to fall on the letter clutched in her hand. Seeing, and talking to Ad again had been too much. 

Criss-Cross stayed like that for several moments, her sobs echoing throughout the small room. She'd been able to handle everything thrown at her, up to this point, but now it just seemed to be too much. She was starting to believe that she couldn't handle her current task.

A sudden noise below caused her to sit bolt upright and listen hard. She could hear the voices of Trigger and Griff below her with perfect ease now, and they were headed her way. Jumping out of the chair, she raced to the Box and grabbed all the letters and notes, and as she heard Griff yell "Dere's footprints on da staiahs!" she ran for the window.

Jumping out, she landed soundlessly on the metal fire escape, grateful that she had earned her first nickname of "Kat". She slipped her back against the wall, and listened to Trigger's heavy footsteps entering the room.

"Dere's nobody in heah," Trigger said, angrily. But then his voice changed to one of surprised delight. "Well...Well…Well…What's dis heah?"

Criss-Cross gulped, realizing he had found the open Conlon Box. Then she remembered she had all the papers tucked under her arm. All but one that she hadn't noticed…

Inside Trigger unfolded a paper, and began reading allowed.

"Ta me sweet sistah Kattie:

"Listen goil, I'se ain't got much time, but I'se needed ta let yas know dat I'se still alive. Triggah an' 'is boys tried ta kill me, but I'se soivived. I'se gonna be at Aunt Helen's. Yas still membah wheah dat is, righ'? If you'se get dis, go dere ta look foah me. As in da rest a me letters an' notes. I'se really sorry. I'se jus' wish yas can foigive me. An' dat I'se can make it up ta yas one day. Much love sistah. Your bruddah, Spot.

"Aw, how sweetly disgusting…But dat solves two mysteries now…Back tad a lodgin' house! Now!"

Criss-Cross heard him crumple the paper and felt hot tears stinging her eyes. _Spot's alive!_ she thought, bewildered. Her beloved brother was alive, but if she didn't get to him fast, he wouldn't be for much longer. Jumping down from the fire escape, she took off back to the lodging house at a sprint. She wasn't going to lose Spot again…

A/N: Spot: _I'se not dead! Ha! Ha! Oh, an' please review!_

No! You aren't! Nothing could kill the great Spot Conlon! And nothing can split up the Conlon team! Anyway, like Spot said, please review for my sake! Much love all! Shout out time!

**Shout Outs: **

**Nosilla: **grins wickedly You'll see…And glad you like it! And yeah, poor Criss-Cross.

**Noelani:** Yeah. I know. It's REALLY long. lol But it's my baby. Not to mention, it's a complicated intricate story, kind of. And the chapters are pretty short at the beginning. lol Glad you think it's cool that! That always makes me happy to know! And thanks, I've been wondering about the accent...

**Angelfish: **Yes! Another chapter! And you gotta love sub-plots! lol They keep life interesting. And they actually did make sense. lol

**Jittery: **It's okay. I don't mind. Just as long as you post them front here on out! sheepish grin And yeah, I'm pulling a Spot on you and being rude there. Anyway, I'm glad you love it! And I'll definitely keep writing if you keep reviewing!

**Bittah: **Yuppers. lol I love them. Not to mention it makes my story longer and more interesting. There's more sideplottage coming up later. And I'm working on keeping writing!

Spot: _Now go review peoples!_

Yes. Do please go review! Much love! Criss-Cross


	29. Chapter TwentyNine: Stranger

A/N: Hey everybody! Prepare for a double update today! YAY! lol Okay, sorry, that rhymed though! Anyway, I didn't get as many reviews on Chapter 28 (which, btw, is one of my fav chapters, and did anyone find it a complete shock that Spot was alive? Cuz with one guy from my lh did…) as I wanted, but, I already wrote this and wanted to go ahead and post it, along with chapter 30 a little later. Anyway….Happy reading!

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Stranger**

Back in Manhattan, Marsh was just coming around out of a very violent nightmare. After Bittah had stabbed her, she passed out, and her mind had drifted back to her past.

Six years ago, she had gotten in a huge fight with her father, and ended up running away from the tenement she lived in with her best friend. Determined to make it on her own, the ten year-old Marsh had quickly found out that the city actually wasn't as grand as it seemed.

After living on the streets for a while, she had decided to go home, only to wander back and find the tenement house had burned down, and there was nothing left of her family. Both her mother and father were dead, along with her brother, Kyle, and their dog.

Marsh could still remember the exact sight of the burned rubble, and it was hard for her not to cry every time she thought about it.

Finally, she drifted back to consciousness, and opened her heavy eyelids. It felt as though someone had filled them with lead, but she opened the anyway, and looked around at where she lay.

She was in the Manhattan infirmary, and by her side stood Specs and Gip. A doctor was over in a corner, talking with Jack Kelly and his girl Kit Kat. She was in the same bed that Kid Blink had been in when he died, with the same ragged white sheet hanging around it. Biting her lip, she felt the pain in her abdomen hit her hard.

"Marsh?" Gip's voice was worried, and a tad afraid.

Marsh nodded, not opening her mouth for fear that she might vomit.

"Y'all righ'?" Specs asked, giving her a concerned look as Jack looked their way. Once again, she nodded, and closed her eyes for a minute. Thinking of how to make the pain in her stomach less. A hand squeezed her shoulder, and she heard the voice of Jack Kelly speak next.

"You'se shoah she's gonna be a'ight?" he asked nervously. Marsh had never heard Jack nervous, but then she realized that he and the rest of the lodging house must have thought she was going to be their second casualty within one day.

"She's gonna be fine kid," a gruff voice responded. "Jus' let her rest, an' she'll be jus' fine."

Marsh couldn't see Jack nod, but he did before holding out a hand for the doctor to shake. "T'anks a lot, Doc. How much does we owe you?"

The doctor clicked his tongue and thought for a moment. He was a nice guy, and he realized that these were just poor street kids. But then he had also been pulled out of his practice for two emergencies in one day. However, he felt bad for Blink's death, and decided on a small fee.

"Jus' a dollah, kid. I'se ain't done much. 'Sides, your friend died earliah. An' you ain't got ta pay a doctah for woik 'e fails at."

Jack nodded, and handed over three quarters, one dime, two nickels, and five pennies that he'd collected from the lodging house kids earlier to pay for the doctor. Kloppman had contributed 50 cents himself, because he felt responsible for the kids that he watched over.

They all heard the door of the infirmary burst open, and Marsh's eyelids flashed up as running footsteps came their way. Vice, Gip's older brother, quickly stepped around the corner, a look of bewilderment in his deep blue eyes, and a puzzled expression on his tanned face.

He worried a cigar over in his mouth for a moment before he spotted Jack. "Jack," he said, his voice half-muffled by the cigar, "dere's…Someone heah ta see yas. Now. It's oigent!"

Jack sighed and nodded, squeezing Marsh's shoulder another time, he followed Vice back around the sheet, and out the door, shutting it quietly on his way out.

"What's goin' on?" Marsh asked, holding her stomach down.

A concerned, caring look came into Gip's eye as she regarded her injured friend. "We's…Aw Marsh…We's had a vote while you'se out a it. An' we voted ta go ta war."

Marsh nodded, and closing her eyes, slipped into her own thoughts, wondering over what would happen to all of them.

Jack followed Vice to his office, and opening his door, stepped in, shutting it quickly behind himself. _Who could it be dat's needs ta talk ta me dis oigently?_ he wondered to himself, slightly annoyed, but his heart stopped as he saw the form sitting on the other side of the desk.

"Heya Jacky-boy," a familiar voice, dripping with its usual smirk greeted Jack as he stood there dumbfounded, looking at the small frame of his friend whom he had not seen.

His jaw dropped through the floor and hit the sewers below New York City's streets as he tried to get his mind back under control. Pulling his jaw slowly back up, he realized that he was paralyzed in his stance.

"What…? Huh…? Who….? How…? Wheah…? When…? What…?" he spluttered, sinking numbly onto a box.

"Aw, Jacky-boy, don' say yas t'ought I'se dead…"

"No….Dis…Dis can' be…You'se a ghost…"

"Do I'se look like a ghost ta you'se? I'se don' t'ink so. I'se me in da flesh an' blood."

Gaping, Jack lost completely control of himself, and just stared at the stranger he had not seen in weeks, and had presumed dead. His thoughts running at a mile a minute, he tried to come to grips with the fact that he was looking at the King of Brooklyn himself, the great, one and only, Spot Conlon.

A/N: What'd ya think!

Spot: _I'se in it! Dey gotta t'ink it's great!_

I think someone's a lil too full of himself. But anyway, please review!

Spot: _Dey gotta review, cuz dey gotta t'ink it's great! _

lol You're a character Spot. Please please please review though!

Spot: _Review a I'se gonna soak yas!_

Spot….sighs Oh well…It's hopeless to try and teach you manners. But please do review!

**Shout Outs:**

**Jittery: **lol More's on it's way soon! And I heart it too!

**Jdsd: **Thanks. And I will. Most probably because I'm afraid of what my reviewers'd do to me if I didn't. lol Nah, it's cuz I really love the story. But I can pretend, right!

**Bittah: **Yes! A twist! I love twists! Did you see that coming? lol Cuz I thought it was pretty obvious, but…Well, it might not have been. (Though, I did tend to give bunches of little foreshadowings on it…lol) And yes! I want fic! I demand fic! Give me fic! Or else I'll…erm…Sick Spot on you! lol hugs Keep reviewing and I'll write faster!

Anymore, much love all, and now I'm off to finish chappie 30 and get it up! Criss-Cross…And Spot…


	30. Chapter Thirty !: Friends versus Enemies

A/N: Okay, I actually finished this like 30 min ago. But whatever. lol Hey! 30 minutes! And it's Chapter 30! Wow, can you believe that already? I know I can't. Anyway, I should've said earlier or maybe yesterday with Chapter 28 that I'll probably be posting faster from now on since we're climaxing and getting towards the end of the story (I think…I hope…lol) Anyway, happy reading!

**Chapter Thirty: Friends versus Enemies**

Criss-Cross climbed up the hanging vine under the new girl's bunkroom in the Brooklyn lodging house, grateful that it had not been cut back since her old days as a Brooklyn newsie. The room had formerly belonged to the owner of the lodging house, Mr. Holt, but she guessed that he had left the place to the kids when Tigger had taken it over. He and Spot had gotten along just fine, but anyone who murdered Spot would not be on his list of friends.

Shoving the window open, she crawled in quickly and began to yank the clothes she'd been wearing earlier out of her bag. She'd stashed the letters behind a loose brick, so as not to be caught with them. Yanking her suspenders off her shoulders, she began to pull the skirt on over her pants. A sudden voice behind her caused her to whip around, nearly tripping on the long skirt.

"One woid. Busted," Bittah said, giving her a grin.

A distressed look coming over her face, she gave Bittah a pleading look and begged, "Bittah…Listen…You'se don' know me. An' dere's t'ings dat's in my past, but I sweah I'se ain' bad. An' if yas only knew da truth yas'd undahstand…"

She grinned and nodded. "I'se know kid. I'se recognized yas da moment yas step foot in heah. An' I'se ain' gonna tell Triggah who yas really are. Don' worry 'bout it. I'se know it all. Aby…Advantage," she corrected herself, "told me everythin'."

Sighing in relief, Criss-Cross remembered that Trigger and Griff were hot on her heels, and would soon be arriving. Yanking the skirt all the way up, she hooked the back, and began to yank off her boots. A gentle hand pulled her hat off as she bent over, and she felt Bittah's hand straightening her hair kindly.

She was about to shove the high-button boots on her feet when she heard a commotion outside the door. Jamming the window shut, she shoved her hat and normal boots into her bag, and throwing her quilt sloppily over the bed, she yanked out a pencil and pad of paper, and began messily drawing Bittah's picture, looking like she'd been there the whole time.

As she heard a pair of shoes stomping up the steps, she took a moment to arrange herself perfectly and calm her thoughts, creating a serene look on her face. Wiping a hint of sweat from her forehead, she frowned, realizing her breathing was still hard. Biting her lip, she tried to calm it as Trigger burst through the door. Biting the inside of her cheeks so as to look perfectly tranquil, she gave him a puzzled look as he came over and yanking her off the bed by her upper arm, threw her against the wall. She felt a nail that was sticking out bite into the flesh on her shoulder blade, but didn't so much as wince.

"Got somethin' ta tell us 'Kattie'? Like how you'se really from New Yawk an' a Conlon!" he shouted at her, his face red in anger, and his grip on her upper arms shook with pure, blind fury. 

Criss-Cross furrowed her eyebrows at him, giving off an air of utter confusion, though, she really wanted to just shout out that it was the truth. She was sick of hiding her bloodline. She'd been hiding it for the last four years, and just wanted the running of the past to be over with, and the playing of a different character every couple of weeks to be gone, but right now she had one last role to play.

"What are you talking about Trigger?" she asked, holding perfectly still and giving him a questioningly look, as though she was truly confused.

"You'se know what I'se talkin' 'bout!" he raged, back-handing her hard. She fell to the floor, but immediately picked herself up.

"Trigger, I'm a fourteen year-old girl who's in a big city for the very first time in her life, and doesn't have a clue what you're talking about. So either explain yourself or calm down. Or both would be nice."

Trigger back-handed her hard again, sending her hard into her bed. He screamed at her, "You dn btch! Stop pretendin'! I'se know who yas really are! Now jus' stop pretendin'!" 

"I'm not pretending Trigger! My name is Katrina Sassparilla Charing. Called Kattie or Sass. I'm from Colorado! I came out east with the boy I was with whose name was Fella Barnes! I'm not pretending!" she said back passionately, before stepping towards him, a pleading look in her eye. "Why don't you believe me?"

Criss-Cross planted a kiss hard on his lips, grabbing him by the front of his shirt as she did. She hoped it would calm him down, but it only did slightly. He shoved her off, and took her upper arm back into his fearsome grip.

"An' how's do I knows you'se ain't lying! Huh!" he said in a deadly voice, his face only an inch away from hers.

"Cuz… I ain't," she said in a slightly New York accent, realizing what she'd done too late. Trigger raised his hand to back-hand her again, and this time she knew it would break her neck, because she's fall over her own bed, and tumble head first into Bittah's.

However, the blow never hit, and looking at his hand confused, she realized that Bittah had it in a strong grasp.

"Leave her alone, Triggah," she said in a nasty tone. "She's told yas dat she's got no idea what you'se talkin' 'bout. An' dat she's really who she's says she is. Now leave her alone."

Trigger growled and shoved Bittah away, but the brave Chicago girl stepped in between he and Criss-Cross, and gave him the death glare, saying, "I'se said 'Leave her alone'. An' I'se mean it. Now leave her alone. A would yas like me ta give yas anuddah black eye a a fat lip ta go wit' yer evil heawt?"

She shoved him backwards, and he tripped from the unexpected push, and fell flat. Criss-Cross had to duck behind Bittah to keep from giggling to hard.

"Now get outta heah an' back ta Ruckus! Yas know she won' be happy if someone, let's jus' say a poisen in dis lodgin' house, let's her know you'se been hittin' on anuddah goil…Tsk…Tsk…" 

Bittah shot him a smirk, and she and Criss-Cross watched as he left. When he was gone, Criss-Cross gave Bittah a grateful smile and spitting into that palm of her hand, held it out to her newest friend.

"I'se don' t'ink we's been foimally intrahduced. I'se Criss-Cross Kat Conlon. An' I'se in diah need a somebody like you'se."

Bittah grinned, and extended her own palm with spit in it, shaking Criss-Cross's. "Nice ta meet yas. I'se Bittah. An' what da yas need?"

Criss-Cross graced the girl with a smirk, and began to tell Bittah everything, including the notes, and exactly what needed to happen. She was just glad that she'd made a good friend, who, from the looks of it, was just as good as any Conlon could be.

A/N: What did you think! Please review! Love ya muchles! CTB! Criss-Cross

**Shout Out: **

**Skater: **Hey, it's okay. I'm glad you reviewed now though! lol And I know! He's alive! It makes me happy. lol I just wish I could bring Blink back to life…tear And it's okay. I think about it a good bit myself. Anyway, keep reading and reviewing! hugs


	31. Chapter ThirtyOne: Surprises

A/N: Okay, I didn't think that I'd end up getting any fic out today, but because Bittah was sad, I wrote up this chappie for her. lol See how much I care about you guys? lol Anyway, here's a new chapter for your reading delights!

**Chapter Thirty-One: Surprises**

Jack sat, gaping for another couple of minutes at Spot. Still not able to believe what was going on. Spot was alive? But how?

"How Spot?" he asked.

Spot laughed, and gave him the Conlon grin that could knock anybody off their feet, whether it was him wearing it or his sister, Criss-Cross. Jack watched as he pulled his hat off his head, wincing, and it was then that Jack noticed Spot's left arm was badly wounded.

"See dat Jacky-boy? Triggah's boys missed me. But jus' barely. I'se managed ta lock da door soon aftah everyone foist saw me lyin' dere 'dead', an' I'se escaped ta Aunt Helen's place. Yas membah her, righ'?"

Jack nodded, still trying to cope with the fact that Spot was alive. Shaking his head to clear the confusion in it, he asked, "Not meanin' ta be rude, but why's yas heah now?" 

Spot nodded solemnly, the grin suddenly gone. Leaning forward across the table, he said, "I'se heah ta get me sistah…"

Jack gulped, and a look of fear came over his face. How would Spot react when he found out that Criss-Cross was back in Brooklyn, trying to avenge him? He chewed the inside of his cheeks, and gave Spot a worried look.

Spot caught on to it right away. Grabbing Jack by the shirtfront, he yanked him up a little. "Wheah's me sistah Jack?" he asked in a deadly voice.

Jack gulped and responded, "She's in Brooklyn avengin' yas an' takin' it back Spot. She left heah dis moinin' an' den Alley came back an' said she's gone ta fight foah yas. An' foah what's righ'fully da Conlon's."

Spot slumped back in his seat, a surprised look in his eye. "She's…she's what!"

It was Jack's turn to be the one talking while Spot took in the news. "She's gone back ta Brooklyn ta avenge yas cuz she t'inks ya're dead. An' she's not 'bout ta let Brooklyn fall inta dat hifalutin' rube's hands."

Spot just gaped, trying to process the information. "She's really gone back?"

Jack nodded, regarding the shorter newsie as he thought it over. "She's really in Brooklyn Spot. Shoah as I'se sittin' heah."

Spot nodded slowly, shocked to the bone. _She's avengin' me's?_ he thought, completely surprised. _Even aftah everythin' I'se done?_

"She's…She's really avengin' me, Cowboy?" he asked slowly, trying to put his thoughts in order.

"Yeah. She's is, Spot. Yas knows, you'se got one hell a a sistah in me opinion. She's one hell a a fine goil. An' any newsie'd be proud ta be her bruddah. But only you'se got dat priviledge…"

Spot gave Jack a small grin. "She's one hell a a goil, dat's foah shoah. I'se jus' blown away dat she's dere, doin' it foah me. Even aftah everythin' I'se done…"

Jack laughed. "Come on, Conlon, poik up! She's yer sistah! She's gonna love yas no mattah what yas do! An' she's a Conlon. An' I'se know from experience dat you'se don' back down easy…"

Spot laughed for the first time since the day Criss-Cross had read about with Advantage trying to cheer them all up. He realized that it felt good to laugh, and a lump caught in his throat as he remembered how often he and Criss-Cross and the other boys had laughed when they'd all been together in Brooklyn.

Standing, Spot shoved his hat back on his head, and knew what he had to do next. "I'se gotta go find her befoah she's gets herself hoit cuz a me…"

Jack nodded, understanding what his friend meant, and stood up himself. But as Spot opened the door, he asked, "Wait…What 'bout yer goil, Runaway?"

"She's gonna be fine heah. Jus' keep her safe. A'ight Jacky-boy?"

"A'ight," Jack responded, and with that, Spot disappeared, making Jack wonder if he'd ever see his friend again, or the girl he considered his surrogate sister, Criss-Cross. What would happen to them in Brooklyn where Trigger was? And how could they hope to live being in such dangerous enemy territory, friendless, alone, and not even haing each other?

The answers to those questions, Jack didn't know. 

Little did Jack know, but back in the bunkroom, where all the Manhattan newsies and Harlem newsies were staying, Alleyway was still thinking the same things about her best friend Criss-Cross. Even though she and Wicked had won the vote as they had wanted to, the future was still so uncertain. And she could read the same question on everyone's mind. "Did we make the right decision?"

Nobody knew what to do in this situation. They'd never been faced with it. Brooklyn had always been there, proud and strong, to fight back any force. But now they were alone. They didn't have a tough Brooklyn to turn to this time.

Shaking her head, Alley looked across the room at where Wicked sat, conversing with the Harlem leader named Gloves. Some consider Corsets, Henna, and Curls to be the rulers of Harlem, but Gloves actually did.

He was cute, but not her type of guy. She preferred the gorgeous Wicked to him. Sighing, she screamed at herself for being so ridiculous. Here she was, facing a full-blown war, and the possible loss of more than just her best friend, and yet she was thinking about boys!

Shaking her head, she sighed slightly, but then grinned as she saw Wicked looking her way, and she realized for the first time how truly glad she was that she'd found him in Brooklyn three years ago, and managed to make him her boy. Grinning, she watched conversation in the room go on as normal, and realized with surprise that even though there was a slight tension, things were still as they normally would be.

A/N: Spot: _I'se in it agin! Yeah!_

Yes, Spot, you are. We all know I love you, so, you get to be in it now. lol Anyway, please review, and then next chapter you'll see your name in the pretty thing below called Shout Outs!

**Shout Outs: **

**Nosilla: **Wow, that's really weird…lol So you had to wait for it to live again? lol Glad you reviewed eventually though!

**Bittah: **lol I understood ya. And I hope you're happy that I wrote this chapter for you in particular, because you were down. lol I like writing you kicking Trigger's ass. It's fun. lol Mainly because I hate that scumball Trigger. But oh well! And more will be coming up tomorrow. Including action!

**Skater: **Yay! You're caught up! And yes, Spot's back! lol How could I have killed him off? I love him WAY too much!

**Angelfish: **lol I love Bittah's speech too! And we'll see if you get to be…I'm still trying to decide on the future for my fic. And yes! He is! Was it really that big of a surprise that he was?

Once again, please review! Criss-Cross…And Spot…


	32. Chapter ThirtyTwo: Mountains and Manners

A/N: Okay, sorry this wasn't up yesterday, but I'll try to get another chappie up today to make up for it. Anyway, this chapter was inspired by Bittah and Spunk. Spunk inspired the first part, and Bittah the ending. So I'd like to thank both of you for it. And you get a…erm…New copy of the Newsies soundtrack? lol Anyway, happy reading! Hope you like this chapter!

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Mountains and Manners**

Criss-Cross had just finished telling Bittah what needed to happen, when the other girls came pouring into the room, curious about what had happened with Trigger. They didn't come in too soon, but Criss-Cross was thankful that she'd had the good sense to hurry up through her talk with Bittah.

Looking at the other girls, she smiled faintly, and watched as Skater's face turned livid at the bruise that now decorated her right cheekbone, and the blood running slowly down her back from the nail.

"Triggah's doin'?" she asked, clearly mad.

Criss-Cross nodded and said quietly, "Yeah. It is. He's got quite a temper our little leader there does." 

Spunk sighed and looked away, saying, "'E such a joik…" She flopped down on her bed, staring at Criss-Cross. It was obvious to Bittah and her new-found friend that now would be the girl-talk time.

Sighing, Bittah nodded and then shot a small smile at Criss-Cross, ruffling an affectionate hand through the younger girl's hair, causing the other girls to gawk in amazement. The only person they'd ever seen her be affectionate toward was her boy, Advantage –who to them was named Abyss. But she wasn't always extremely affectionate to him even. But here was a new girl in their lodging house, and Bittah was treating her like a beloved younger sister. 

"What!" Bittah snapped at them. "You'se got a problem?"

Spunk and Striker shook their heads, but Skater gave a snort. "What's up wit' you'se Bittah? You'se completely acceptin' a strangah inta ouah ranks like she's yer own blood a somethin'! An' yas stood up ta Triggah foah her!" 

Bittah shot her a glare and Criss-Cross glared some too, keeping it fitting to her character. "Who wouldn' stand up ta dat not a very nice person, Skatah!" Bittah snapped cruelly. "At least who wit' half a gut wouldn'?"

Skater simply glared back before stalking over to her own bunk. Spunk however, was full of question. "So'se, Kattie, wheah yas from?"

Criss-Cross smiled at the girl, trying to hide the fact that she still disliked the girl for turning against Brooklyn. "Well, Spunk, I'm from Colorado," she replied.

Striker plopped herself onto a bunk across the aisle from Criss-Cross's, and asked, "So'se what's da West like?"

"Did ya meet Indians?" Spunk asked. 

Criss-Cross laughed. "No. I didn't. The West's nice. But it's not all about Indians you know," she chastised softly. "I think the most amazing t'ing was the mountains." She bit her lip, realizing she'd let a bit of New York accent slip. It was hard speaking with a Midwest accent all the time.

"Mountains?" Skater asked, apparently no longer mad at Bittah. She was looking at Criss-Cross with interest, and it appeared that no one in the room had heard the accent slip.

She nodded. "Yeah. Mountains. They're amazing. So huge…It'd take t'ree skyscrapers on top of each other to even make it halfway up them at most!"

The other girls gave a look of surprise, and a suddenly pained look came over Criss-Cross's face as she moved her left arm the wrong way, and caused her wound to ache.

"Sorry girls…" she said softly, standing and pulling her bag up onto her shoulder. "You know...It's that time of month…"

Criss-Cross thought her excuse was lame, but it flew with the other girls. She stepped off to the bathroom, silently begging Bittah to follow her.

Once she was in the bathroom, she threw her bag down in a chair and yanked out an old torn up skirt which she used to make bandages. Shoving up the sleeve of her shirt, she sighed in relief as Bittah walked through the door. Hissing, she slit the bloodied bandage, and yanked at a pre-cut portion of the old skirt.

"Lemme help yas wit' dat," Bittah said in a kind voice. She'd taken an immediate liking to the former Brooklyn leader's younger sister. She wrapped it gently around Criss-Cross's arm, realizing that she was the one who had done it. "Sorry 'bout yesterday…"

Criss-Cross laughed and waved it away. "We's didn' know each uddah den. An' at least you'se didn't go foah da kill. I'se da one dat lounged at yer throat…"

Bittah laughed a little, but her face was sad. "I'se dunno why I'se joined Triggah's side…"

Criss-Cross regarded her with a pure knowing look. "Because 'e's got da powah an' yas didn' know any bettah?"

Bittah nodded, and the two sat in silence for a moment. Not the uncomfortable silence of people who do not know each other very well, but the calm silence of friends just enjoying each others company. Bittah finished wrapping the other girl's arm, and pulled her sleeve softly back down while Criss-Cross observed her. 

Their friendly silence was broken by someone opening the door at the other end of the room. Looking up, she saw Trigger heading their way, a prominent smell of whiskey hanging about him. Growling, she stood as he headed her way. She knew that he wanted one of two things, and she wasn't about to put up with either of them. 

Bittah stood up and looked on in fury as Trigger placed his hands on Criss-Cross's hips and back her into the wall, kissing her. A look of satisfaction came onto both girls' faces as she shoved him off her and said in a deadly tone, "Trigger Jones, if you want to continue living, I suggest you learn when it's good to come onto a girl, and when it's not. And I also suggest you find yourself some manners."

Trigger was enraged by her words, and shoved her back into the wall, slapping her hard, but she wasn't about to give in. Bringing her knee gracefully and hard up into his groin, she shoved him back towards Bittah, who spun him around and decked him hard while she flipped out her blade.

Spinning him back towards her, she saw another black eye already forming and smirked up at Bittah as he tried to keep standing. Yanking him upright, she placed the knife to his throat and hissed, "We's can do this moah ways dan one…" Her New York accent had crept back in, but she didn't care. He was in too much pain to notice.

He tried to take a jab at her nose, but she dodged and slashed his cheek, while Bittah kicked his knees out from under him. Even on his knees he came up to Criss-Cross's chest, and she cursed his height for a moment before ramming her fist into his nose, hearing a satisfactory crack.

Yanking him by the hair, she threw him back to Bittah, and watched with a smirk as the older girl caused bruise after bruise with her powerful fist, not even allowing Trigger to get a shot in edgewise. After a moment, Bittah tossed him back, a satisfied smirk resting smugly on her features.

Criss-Cross brought her knee hard into his stomach before kicking him down onto the floor. With a finally jab, she stabbed him hard in the thigh and then turned to Bittah as the ex-Chicago girl knocked him out.

"We's bettah get outta heah fast, 'foah anyone finds out what we's done…"

Bittah nodded, and Criss-Cross grabbed her bag, yanking her boots out and shoving her feet into them, not even bothering with the laces. Pulling her bag onto her shoulder, she and Bittah ran for the door, and the quiet safety of the streets.

A/N: Spot: _What's yas t'ink? Quite a fight. Gotta love how me lil sistah an' Bittah are tagethah. _

Aw…How sweet Spot. And yeah, they're awesome together. Anyway, please review everybody!

**Shout Outs: **

**Nosilla: **Oh, how sad. Fix a tv…Well that's no fun. But I'm glad your internet's alive again!

**Scott: **(lol, I'm too lazy to type out NP…) Hey. Thanks. lol I've thought it most of the way through. Though, we're getting to a point where I know what has to happen, but it's getting to the point where it's going to happen that's hard. I haven't planned too much past when she found out Spot was alive. In fact, the last scene I planned was the scene between Spot and Jack talking about Criss-Cross. lol And you only guessed because I told you EXACTLY where to look to find the foreshadowing! And I told you that there was a twist!

**Skater: **Yeah! You're telepathic or something. lol Or maybe it's cuz I always update… And yeah, you do, but oh well. And we're all glad he's back! grins Hope you liked this last update!

**Spunk: **Glad you like it. lol And well, she was in this chapter! Thanks for inspiring me to bring the Queens girls back in! grins

**Bittah: **lol Love ya too girl. But you need to post more fic! And of course it cheered you up. It's Newsies! lol And I want more fic now! On pain of…erm…Okay, we both know I'm no good at threats. So just please update! And I hope this was good action for you!

Please review everyone! Much love and happy singing, dancing newsboys! Criss-Cross and Spot


	33. Chapter ThirtyThree: Call Me Kattie

A/N: YAY! Finally! A new chappie! Wow, this took WAY too long to write. I'm SO sorry. This should have been up like over a week ago. But, thanks to the laziness and mind-haze induced by the required state testing I've been forced to endure for the past two weeks, and thanks to be not being about to get on the computer all of last weekend, and thanks to me suddenly getting sick over the weekend, it just never got written. I have a feeling this chapter is going to be extremely terrible, and I'm horribly sorry for that, but maybe you'll find it at least a bit interesting. And hopefully you'll look forward to the chapters to come! Oh, and good news for all of you, my spring break's next week! happy dance And my two best friends, and really the only people I'd be doing anything with are going to be out of town. pouts quietly So that means I'll be writing a ton. Oh, and I'm done with CSAPs! (the Colorado Student Assessment Program, or, in other words, the aforementioned state-required yearly tests…) So no more delays because of them! Anyway, hope you all enjoy this! Criss-Cross

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Call Me Kattie**

Bittah burst out laughing as she and Criss-Cross reached the end of the street. Their fight with Trigger had been the most fun she had in ages, and though she knew that she should be scared of Trigger's mob of gang members that he'd send after them once he came to, but she wasn't. 

Smirking as the smaller girl raised an eyebrow at her, she laughed even harder. "Aw, c'mon Criss-Cross. Live a lil. You'se can' tell me yas didn' find dat fun!"

Criss-Cross burst out laughing too and smirked back at Bittah, saying, "Dere's no way I didn'! Da fights wit' Triggah's boys befoah have been bland. But now it's moah fun."

Bittah nodded and sat down on a barrel. "'Parently I'se been on da wrong side befoah now…" she said.

Criss-Cross shook her head and laughed. "Nah," she said, "yas jus' didn' know which side ta choose…"

Bittah nodded, and the two sat in silence for a moment, both in their own thoughts. But then she broke it, asking, "Wheah to?"

"Not heah…We can' stay in Brooklyn tanigh'…Triggah's men'll be on da streets in a shoit while, meanin' we's should be offa dem…Manhattan'll probably take us in…An' I'se need ta talk ta Jack anyway. See if 'e's gotten 'is lazy ass inta da war…"

Bittah nodded, "A'ight. Well, we bettah head dere soon."

Criss-Cross nodded and stood up, as a sudden commotion in a nearby alley drew the attention of both of them. 

"What d'ya t'ink dat is?" Criss-Cross looked over at Bittah.

"I'd say it's a fight…" she responded, standing and heading towards the alley.

"fkin' bastards!" a female voice's scream rent the air, causing Bittah and Criss-Cross to take off running for the alley to see what was wrong.

"Run!" Criss-Cross shouted, darting into the alleyway at the sight of her brother Spot's girl, Runaway. She was facing three Queens boys, and right as Criss-Cross was watching, one of them stabbed Runaway in the gut.

Bittah caught Criss-Cross by the arm, and yanking her back slapped a hand over the other girl's mouth.

"Sh…" she hissed in Criss-Cross's ear. "Calm down! Yas wanna get yerself killed?"

Criss-Cross shook her head, eyes wide, staring at the horrific scene in front of them. As Runaway fell to her knees, grasping the knife in her stomach, one of the Queens boys, Ice, stepped up to her, and placing his own knife by her throat, ended her life in one quick slice.

Cringing, Criss-Cross turned away from the scene, hiding her head in Bittah's shoulder. She'd seen plenty of deaths in her life in New York's multitudes of borough wars, but for some reason she couldn't watch as Runaway –who had helped her to be where she was at the moment- had her blood spilled on the cobblestones of Brooklyn.

Bittah put her arm lightly around Criss-Cross, and steered her away from the alley before the boys had a chance to see them. Once they were well out of sight by the Brooklyn Bridge, the two stopped.

Leaning against the railing of the bridge, Criss-Cross looked at Bittah with a sad, serious gaze. "She's Spot's goil," she said, her voice soft and full of remorse. "A, at least she was… She was always kinda mean. But wit'out her I'se wouldn' be heah righ' now. I'd still be back in Manhattan waitin' fer Jack ta agree ta let me wage war…"

She stared longingly out over the river, realizing how dark it had gotten. The dark brought her no fear as she peered out at the familiar scene. She could navigate the Bridge with ease in the pitch black. Even though she hadn't lived in Brooklyn for four years, she still knew every inch of it by heart.

"I'se seen every kind a death out dere in me days," she mused, explaining her actions back in the alley. "An' I'se known tons a people who's died. But I'se jus' couldn' look back dere…Cuz I knew Runaway…She was Spot's goil…An' losin' her…seein' her die…Makes me wondah what I'se gonna do if I actually lose Spot…"

Bittah regarded the girl with soft eyes, and thought about what to say. But she was at a loss for words. So instead, she lay a hand on Criss-Cross's shoulder and gave her a soft, genuinely caring smile.

"Ah, Spot's too stubboin ta let anybody kill 'im," she said slowly, finally finding the right words to reassure the girl she was sure would become Brooklyn's queen once it all ended.

Criss-Cross grinned half-heartedly and nodded, laughing softly as she spoke, "Ah, I got nothin' ta worry 'bout wit' Spot. 'E's da King a Brooklyn, an' 'e didn' get dat name fer nothin'…Jus' wish I knew what's gonna happen. An' why everythin's gotta be so strange righ' now. I'se mean, Runaway would nevah have died undah different coicumstances…"

Sighing, Bittah nodded. She'd only actually known Runaway for a few days before all the trouble with Trigger had suddenly exploded, but the girl had seemed like the type to be a fighter. Regarding Criss-Cross with a look of pity, she smiled softly. The younger girl seemed to be the closest thing she'd ever have to a sister, and even though the two had only met an hour or so before, she cared about more than she had nearly anyone else in her life.

Bittah had grown up on the streets of Chicago. She'd been raised by a gang, and she'd been an orphan her whole life. She'd never had a real family, though the Shadows –her gang- had become hers over the years. But after a time, the torment of the gang had worn her down, and she'd left Chicago in a rush, fleeing from both the police, and her gang.

Shaking her head to clear the memories, Bittah turned to look at Criss-Cross as a fire began to play in the younger girl's eyes. "What yas plannin', Criss-Cross?" she asked with a smirk.

Criss-Cross smirked at her and turned, beginning to walk down the bridge. Shooting Bittah a, "You coming or not," look over her shoulder, she simply said, "Ah…You'se gonna find out soon enough…An' call me Kattie. We's in dis like we's fam'ly. So ya migh' as well call me by me fam'ly name."

Quietly, staring at the stars for a moment as she fished for her cap in her bag, she added in a soft murmur that was carried away by the wind, "It's what Spot's always called me…"

A/N: So, what did you think? Was it totally horrible, terrible, boring, or just in general bad? Or did you like it? lol Tell me, cuz I wanna know. And in order to tell me that means you have to…You guessed it-

Spot: _Review! Yeah! Yas gotta!_

So true…So please please please pretty please with sugar and a muffin and a cupcake and regular cake and chocolate and a cream-coated newsie of your choosing on top, review! Oh, and I'm sorry Runaway! But I had to kill you're character! It had to be done for the plot to work right!

**Shout Outs:**

**Claps: **Yay! Happiness! I hope you liked this chapter. And I'm definitely writing more. I've already got several more stories planned out for my quaint little newsies fanfiction. So, I hope you'll read them! But right now I'm focusing on finishing this one…

**Angelfish: **Yay! Okay, I have to confess my extreme concern that the fight was unrealistic, but apparently you and some others liked it, so yay! And I will try to fulfill your demand for more Striker. lol There's going to be at least a little more of everybody between here and the end. Well, except for those already dead…lol And you're writing's really good, so you need to write more soon!

**Skater: **Yay! This one's _finally_ up! Sorry for the delay. And yeah, you're gonna be in at least a couple more chapters. lol You'll see what I'm planning…And I'm glad you thought the last one was good. But what about this one?

**Nosilla: **Yay! And I'm alive too! So that's all good news.

**Scott: **(still too lazy to write out your full name…lol) Yes! It was a cool fight! Though, it wasn't actually that big of one. There's bigger fights to come still…And yeah, I was really stuck on this chapter thanks to CSAPs and being sick and stuff. And I'll give as obvious of hints as I want! lol And I hate Trigger, so of course he's gonna get his ass kicked…

**Bittah: **Yes! More RPing! Though, I think that was part of the problem of my taking forever to update…But oh well…And your suggestions are fun to take! You'll just have to wait and see what I have in store though…lol Much love girl! And thanks for the note you left on my away message yesterday. It made me feel good, cuz right now I'm horribly sick and should probably by upstairs in bed, but oh well, I ain't the type to sit around and do nothing. But sorry I took so long to update. I SO owe you more fic! Which hopefully you will get very soon!

Spot: _A'ight, we love yas all, but we gotsta go. Please review! Oh, an' I'se gonna make Criss-Cross write moah fic soon, a'ight!_

laughs Okay, well, please review, and I promise more fic soon!

Cuddly newsies and happy songs,

Criss-Cross _And Spot_


	34. Chapter ThirtyFour: Bittah

A/N: Sorry this took so long. lol I'm extremely addicted to the Prince Street LH, and I can't seem to get off it long enough to write. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter!

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Bittah**

Vice was about to leave the lodging house to see if he couldn't pick up a girl at Medda's, when a sudden loud, demanding knock came at the lodging house door. Opening it a crack, he peeked out, only to have the door shoved upon on him, knocking him backwards slightly.

As he looked up, he recognized the beautiful form of Spot Conlon's younger sister, Criss-Cross. However, she looked different than she normally did. She was girlish for once, which only made her prettier.

"Well, well, well…If it ain't the dead Spot Conlon's youngah sistah…" he said, attempting to be sly.

Criss-Cross groaned and shot him a look that could kill. "Vice," she stated in a clipped tone, "you'se know jus' as well as me dat I ain't about ta sleep wit' yas an' I nevah will."

Vice sighed but gave her a grin all the same, saying, "Wells, I'se jus' gonna have ta test ya on that sometime."

Rolling her eyes she smirked back at Bittah. "See what da Manhattan goils have ta put up wit'?" she asked jokingly. "By da way…Vice, dis is Bittah, an' Bittah dis is Vice…"

Vice's eyes grew wide as he saw one of Trigger's girls standing next to Criss-Cross. "H-have ya gone mad!" he shouted at her, stepping away from Bittah, but closer to Criss-Cross, grabbing her arm. "She's the enemy!" he exclaimed. "An' ya've brought her righ' heah ta ouah lodgin' house!"

Criss-Cross yanked her arm out of his grip, and yanking him by the shirt front, put her face not even an inch away from his and hissed in a deadly tone, "Ya call her the enemy evah again, an' I sweah that ya're gonna regret it...She's moah me ally dan ya're…" With that she backhanded him hard, growling at him as he fell to the floor.

"Come on, Bittah, 'e's jus' a woithless slimeball I'se unlucky enough ta have on me side," she said, starting slowly up the staircase. About halfway up, she decided to yell for Jack.

"Kelly! Get yer ass heah now!" she screamed, her voice echoing around the lodging house until heads began to poke out all over, curiously looking at her. 

"What d'ya want!" Jack yelled, frustrated as he clambered out of his "office". He thought the yell had come from Alleyway, but his mouth dropped to the floor as he saw the fourteen year-old Queen of Brooklyn standing in the middle of the staircase with Bittah behind her.

"What the hell, Criss!" he exclaimed, staring at Bittah. But within seconds he regretted his exclamation as fire burst out on his nose, caused by a small fist. Looking down as he tried to still the flow of blood a little, he saw that Criss-Cross had made it up the stairs in record time, only to sock him hard in the nose.

"The name's Criss-Cross ta yas, Kelly, an' that theah's Bittah, me loyal companion an' friend. Ya got a problem wit' her?" she growled, holding her fists by her sides, easily ready to deck him again.

Bending forward, Jack yanked Criss-Cross by the back of the neck, causing her head to come forward so that he could his in her ear. "Do ya realize what ya're doin'! Ya've gone insane! She's no moah on ouah side dan Triggah is!"

The next thing Jack knew, he was sliding hard down the wall opposite, and had an extremely menacing Criss-Cross standing over him, looking even more deadly somehow in her new disguise.

"Francis Sullivan," she spat. "If you evah say that Bittah ain't on ouah side again, I will poisenlly put yas through moah pain dan even Spot can inflict…She'd moah ouah ally dan even ya're…An' don't yas dare evah touch me again, Kelly…"

She sent him a glare that chilled him to the bone, and he was surprised when it didn't kill him, because it seemed like it could have quite easily. A small voice from Whisper in the background spoke up and Jack was thankful to have Criss-Cross's attention diverted.

"Can? Spot can? But…Isn't he dead?" Whisper's voice was feeble, seeing as the whole of Harlem and Manhattan had just witnessed Criss-Cross's true strength and fury.

"No…" Criss-Cross said with a sigh, knowing she shouldn't have scared the lodging house that badly. Walking down the stairs, she took Bittah's hand and pulled the other girl up to where she stood at the top of the stairs, an easy place for addressing the newsies in the lodging house. "'E ain't dead…Spot's as alive as you'se an' me…An' if ya don't believe me, den go up ta Brooklyn an' watch Triggah teah the place up tryin' ta find out wheah Aunt Helen's is…"

Bittah nodded and spoke up, "If ya ain't gonna listen ta 'is sistah on whethah or not 'e's alive, den maybe yas'll listen ta me when I'se tell you'se dat I'se watched Triggah beatin' Criss-Cross heah up tryin' ta prove dat she's 'is livin' sistah…"

Criss-Cross grinned over at her friend and said, "An' if ya ain't gonna believe me dat Bittah heah's on ouah side, den I'se gonna tell yas dat she saved me from Triggah in da foist place, an' she didn't blow me covah…Though she knew who I'se is…"

Jack slowly got to his feet, realizing that the conversation was about Spot, and he'd just seen Spot himself. "A'ight," he said, "I'se believe ya that she ain't bad, now I'se need ta talk ta the both of yas…" He gave her an "I mean it! Now!" look and hoped she'd get the hint.

Criss-Cross nodded and started walking at a fast pace to Jack's "office", with Bittah right on her heels. As soon as the door closed behind Jack, she said, "What's dis about, Kelly?"

"Criss-Cross, I seen Spot…'E left heah jus' about a half houah ago…'E was headed up ta Brooklyn," Jack quickly explained, watching as her jaw dropped to the floor.

"What!" she snapped, suddenly inexplicably enraged. Turning to Bittah, her eyes grew wide in fright. "If Spot's in Brooklyn," she whispered, "then Triggah an' 'is boys are bound ta find 'im…I'se can't lose 'im again…"

"We's gotta devise up a plan ta save 'im then," Bittah whispered back, glaring occasionally over at Jack. She disliked the cocky Manhattan leader beyond words, but at least he was better than Trigger.

Sighing, Criss-Cross looked back at Jack and asked, "D'yas know wheah 'e's goin' ta go?" 

Jack shook his head. "Nah," he said, worried. "Spot didn't tell me nothin'…'Cept 'e was goin' ta look foah you'se befoah yas 'got yerself hoit'…"

Criss-Cross sighed and bit her lip. "T'ink I'se should try da lodgin' house den?" she asked, more to herself than to Jack or Bittah. 

"I'se dunno…" Bittah said, trying to think about the best plan of action. "They'll kill 'im if 'e's theah…An' us too…"

Criss-Cross smirked up at Bittah and nodded. "It's gonna be dangerous…" she said quietly.

"But dat makes it all da moah fun," Bittah replied, an excited look glinting in her eyes.

"What are you'se talkin' 'bout?" Jack asked frustratedly. He couldn't understand what they were talking about, and it seemed almost as though they were speaking a different language.

Criss-Cross turned to Jack and said, "Kelly, send someone out ta Ivy, tell her we's gonna need her an' East Side bad…Get 'em on ouah side, an' bring 'em along wit' da Hawlem an' Manhattan kids ta the Brooklyn lodgin' house in less than an houah, a'ight!"

Jack looked at her odd and didn't move. "What? Why?" he asked still confused. Glaring over the desk at him, she clenched her fists, trying hard not to box his ears as she spoke.

"Make sure they's ready foah a big war…Cuz dat's what dis is gonna be…"

Bittah nodded in agreement and pulled out a pockethingych. "If Spot left at 'round 7:00, den 'e'd already be dere now…We's gotta run…" 

Criss-Cross nodded and glared at Jack one last time. "Do it, Kelly! Get yer ass movin' now!" she yelled at him, furious that he was just standing around while her brother had the possibility of dying.

She banged her fist down on the table that was Kelly's desk, and then spun around and marched out the door, Bittah right on her heels. _Dere's no way in hell I'se gonna let Spot die…_ she thought, trying to keep her pace down to a fast walk, but as soon as she hit the streets, she was lifting up the skirt and jogging. She wasn't about to let Spot die again.

A/N: Hey, so, what'd you think? Please review and tell me!

Spot: _Reviews'll earn you'se a…um…Actually I'se dunno what dey'll earn yas…_

They earn you another chapter! That's what!

**Shout Outs:**

**Kryscrossed: **Okay, wow, that's just a little bit TOO big of a weird coincidence. We've got basically the same name, just spelled a little different…lol And you'll see when they'll get to see each other again. If they do…And yes! I got you hooked! Now you have to review! And I'll try to get another chapter out soon.

**Angelfish: **I know! I killed off Runaway! It's horrible! But, it'll add to the story later…You'll see! And you need to write some! You're a really good author! lol And I like to read my friends stories!

**Bittah: **lol You're fun to have on our side, and there's gonna be more of you coming up. (Obviously…) And yes, I'm working on more and trying to be on the LH less! But it ain't working…

**Skater: **No, I haven't forgotten about you guys. lol Though, it is kinda fun to see you be insane, and to have Bittah constantly bugging me for more fic. lol I'm glad it was interesting and not boring! How was this one?

**Scott: **(still too lazy…lol) Glad you liked it. I've been having trouble wording stuff recently…lol I hope it's not showing in my writing…Is it?

Anyway, to all of you, I love you very much (not in any creepy way, lol) and I'll try to get more fic up soon! But, if you want, you can bug me for it with either reviews, or an email to or you could IM me at kthorsegal

Spot: _Ya're gonna regret sayin' dat…_

I know…But anyway, please review! Criss-Cross _An' Spot_


	35. Chapter ThirtyFive: Ivy Nelson

A/N: Yay! I'm back to my old posting, writing self! And I'm basically over my damned cold now! lol Anyway, another yay because this is my second chapter today! I hope you guys enjoy it!

A Quick Thanks/Tiny Disclaimer: I'd like to thank Bittah for being my little muse, on a lot of chapters, but particularly on this one. And also, Bittah owns both Phantom and Needles, and she's letting me borrow them for the sake of my story.

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Ivy Nelson**

Ivy Nelson, considered the toughest girl in New York for the last year had scowled at the news of Conlon's sister being back. She'd found out before even Jack Kelly had known, thanks to one of her birds that she'd taken from Brooklyn after Spot had been killed. Criss-Cross being back in New York meant two things:

First, she was no longer the toughest girl, since no one had ever been able to beat the sprightly younger girl. Criss-Cross was too quick, and though her size didn't make her seem like much, she could pack one hell of a punch.

The second thing was simply the fact of competitiveness. Criss-Cross would immediately go where the fight was, and where the glory would lie. She would head straight for the danger and adventure, leaving none for Ivy, unless Ivy did the same.

Frowning from her spot on the roof of East Side's lodging house, she watched as one of her birds jumped nimbly down from the roof of an adjacent building, laughing as she realized it was too keep their meeting in secrecy. 

"Spill da news you'se got fer me," she said, her voice surprisingly a little low for how thin she was. Glaring at him softly with her amber-colored eyes, challenging him to make her mood worse. 

"Phantom sent me…" the young boy said, clearly out of breath from running. "'E's still in Manhattan watchin', said 'e'd be back soon d'ough…But 'e wanted me ta tell you'se that Criss-Cross somehow got the Chicago goil –Bittah's her name, she's foimahlly one a Triggah's- on her side somehow…"

Ivy nodded solemnly, laughing inwardly at how fast Criss-Cross got around. She herself had been trying to meet the ex-Shadow gang member for the past few weeks, and ha still failed to do so. Word had it that Bittah could be the next toughest New York girl easily, and Ivy didn't want that to happen.

"Anythin' else?" Ivy asked, looking at the young boy, realizing that he was no more than nine years old. _Phantom shoah has a way wit' kids…_ she thought, smiling softly at the thought of her boy. Somehow, of all the people she could be with, and of all the people he could be with, the two had ended up together. An unlikely matched pair, but one that got along better than most couples in New York did.

The boy nodded and catching his breath, he continued, "Phantom saw Spot Conlon! 'Parently 'e's alive…Accoidin' ta what Phantom saw, the bullet jus' missed Spot's chest and got his uppah left arm…An' Criss-Cross knows dat 'e is…Phantom can tell you'se moah dan I'se can, Miss Ivy…"

She smiled and reached out, ruffling his dark hair as she took in the news. Somehow it didn't surprise her that Spot was alive. She'd been his girl for several years, starting when they'd been twelve, and going all the way up until they were nearly fifteen. She knew Spot wouldn't go out without a fight. He was too stubborn to die.

"T'anks, Needle, isn't it?" she asked, hoping she'd gotten his name right. He was one of a small group of boys that Phantom was helping to teach to be birds. One of the boys was Ivy's own younger brother, Ashes.

"It coitainly is, Miss Ivy," he said, grinning that she'd gotten his name right. The fact that he'd been chosen to relay the information to her instead of one of the slightly older boys, or her brother, Ashes, had already surprised him. Perhaps he really could do well at the job he'd always wanted. 

Pulling a dime out from the pouch she wore at her hip, she pressed it into Needle's hand. "Take this, kid. Ya've earn it," she said, smilingly softly at the excited look on his pale face. 

Ivy jumped as a sudden hand came out of nowhere and set itself on her shoulder, her hand flashed to the blade she wore, but stopped mid-draw as she realized it was just Phantom. Grinning up at the seemingly shadowy boy, she stood and kissed him, tossing her long black hair over her shoulders as she did.

"Phantom…" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hugged her softly. "You'se finally come back…"

He smiled at her, an odd change for the normal quiet, unemotional boy. "Yeah…An' I got some moah news. Criss-Cross an' Bittah have headed back ta Brooklyn, since that's wheah Spot left ta go, an' it looks like Manhattan's preparin' for war…An' I'se saw Alleyway, Wicked, Gloves, Kit Kat, an' Kelly all headin' this way…Looks like they's tryin' ta get us as allies…"

"Gloves?" Ivy asked, a bit confused at the mention of the Harlem leader. 

Phantom nodded, saying, "Yeah, Criss-Cross went ta Hawlem, wheah she went got a lil change made on her appearance, an' then left for Brooklyn ta get infoimation…An' Hawlem's now on the anti-Queens side of the war."

She nodded, taking in all the sudden information. Too much had happened, and Criss-Cross had done too much in the bravery department, and Ivy, being Ivy, wasn't about to let Spot's younger sister beat her in any way.

"A'ight, Phantom, you'se know what dis means…You'se in charge. Get everyone ready fer war, an' tell Kelly," she hissed out the cocky Manhattan leader's name as though it were a cuss word not to be spoken in front of anyway, "an' Gloves dat we's in it wit' em…"

Nodding, he kissed her softly. "Jus' take care. An' promise me yas ain't gonna let yer pride get too much in da way," he teased softly, toying with a lock of her hair.

Ivy kissed him one last time, and then shot off, already carrying all the weapons she had. Times had been rough since Trigger had come into power, and no newsie in any borough in New York City was stupid enough to go around unarmed and unprepared for a fight. Climbing nimbly down the fire escape, she headed for Brooklyn at a fast jog, remembering one of the last times she'd seen Criss-Cross Conlon. 

_"Eve Jane Marie Nelson!" the ten year-old Criss-Cross yelled, stalking into the bunkroom that the boys and girls shared. Ivy looked up from buttoning her shirt to see the sprightly young Conlon glaring at her, hands on hips._

"Kat'rine whatevah-ya-middle-name-is Conlon, what da hell d'yas want?" Ivy asked, glaring back just as hard. In truth, she knew what the other girl wanted, but it didn't make her any more apt to being nice. 

"I'se t'ought I'se told yas ta stay da hell away from me bruddah! You'se know 'e can't handle 'imself 'round yas, an' I'se ain't gonna allow 'im ta toin inta some whore bangin' joik! You'se heah me!" Criss-Cross shouted at her, her small face scrunched up in anger at the thought of Ivy sleeping with her brother.

"Well dat's good," Ivy said calmly, still glaring at Criss-Cross as she buttoned her shirt up. "Cuz I'se ain't changin' 'im inta one…"

Ivy laughed softly as the younger girl's face became twisted in rage. It was too easy to get under the girl's skin when it had something to do with Spot. Criss-Cross loved her brother to hell and back, and wasn't about to let anything happen to him, or let anyone get the wrong ideas about him. Even after she'd been run out of Brooklyn, she never had once let anyone think Spot was a jerk.

"Ivy...You'se bettah hope yas can run a hell of a lot fastah dan me!" Criss-Criss hissed in a deadly tone, grinding her teeth. "Cuz I'se ain't 'bout ta let yas get away wit' bangin' Spot one moah time! Dis time I'se gonna let it slide, cuz 'parently you'se weren't listenin' when I said ta stop it…But one moah time an' I sweah…"

Ivy bit her lip softly as she saw the shorter girl fingering the hunting knife that hung at her side. "A'ight, Criss-Cross," she promised, "I'se won' do it again…"

The boyish-looking bouncy blonde smiled at this, loving the fact that she could so easily bend people, and bounced out the door, shouting a "Good goil, Ivy!" over her shoulder. Sighing, Ivy turned back to buttoning her shirt, wondering how she was going to tell Spot…That was, if he hadn't already heard…

Ivy sighed thoughtfully, realizing that she was already nearing the Brooklyn Bridge. The memory had carried her further than she though it would. She'd missed the Conlon siblings, and now knowing that both were alive, she couldn't wait to see them together again. They were a cute pair, and anyone could feel the love in between them, even after Criss-Cross had run, you could still feel that Spot loved her, and he'd always felt guilty about causing her to run away.

A/N: So…What'd ya think! Good? Bad? Happy? Funny? Sad? Frustrating? Try again later? Well, you can tell me by cough reviewing! cough Dang, maybe I ain't over this cold yet…Anyway I need to know if you guys have any questions that I need to answer for you in the end of my story. It could be anything from "Why is Bittah spelled with an 'ah' when you write it in regular story context, while Trigger is with an 'er'?" to "How are Spot and Criss-Cross going to react when they see each other?" I'm hoping to answer your questions somewhere within the ending chapters (since obviously we're getting to the climax…) and so I need to know them pretty soon. Anyway, on to the shout outs…

**Shout Outs:**

**Skater: **It's earlier than tomorrow! Yay! And I'll try not to make you too insane…I just hit a small writer's block on the last couple of chapters, but now, I'm out of it! happy squeal And maybe I'll manage to get another update up tonight! (Who knows? It could happen…)

**Kryscrossed: **Well there you have it! Another chapter! Yay! lol The name thing is beyond weird…I got mine from an ex-boyfriend, and, well, it just kind of stuck. lol His name was Chris, and his full nickname for me was actually "Criss-Cross Kat Conlon" hence why I stuck with it. lol He was my first real introduction to newsies…But anyway! That's beside the point! I'm really glad you like the fic!

**Bittah: **lol Happy now? I gave you more! Now I'm expecting more from you too, missie…lol And how about I just slow down the number of posts I'm doing on it? lol But at least you can feel for me some, because you know how addicting the thing is!

Spot: _A'ight, the usual "I'se love yas, please review" t'ing…_

Yes, quite. I love you guys! (Not in a creepy way, as an "I care about you and value you as readers and reviewers" way.) Now please please PLEASE review! _Spot_ And Criss-Cross (Hey wait! That ain't fair Spot! My name's supposed ta come first!)


	36. Chapter ThirtySix: Aunt Helen

A/N: Okay, this chapter was uberly difficult to me. It was downright mean. I meant to have it up sooner, but, well, it just didn't want to be nice for me. But anyway, here it is!

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Aunt Helen**

Spot walked in the shadows all the way to Brooklyn, making sure to keep well away from highly used streets and alleys. He decided to check the old warehouse first, to see if by any chance Criss-Cross would be there. As he thought about the danger she was getting herself into, he felt worse and worse. 

_goddnit, Spot…_ he cursed himself. _Why'd yas have ta go an' be a joik ta her…If I'se hadn't run her outta Brooklyn, dis nevah would be happenin'…Dey nevah woulda "killed" me, an' she'd be laughin' 'bout da whole incident…_

Stepping slowly into the warehouse, Spot looked around and saw fresh tracks leading to the place where the Box was, and he felt his heart lift a little. Maybe she'd found all his notes. And hopefully the one in which he said he was alive. Thinking about the note, he suddenly realized that he'd said he'd be at Aunt Helen's.

"dnit Spot!" he cursed aloud and turned on his heel. 

Skater kissed Skinner passionately as she let him pull her into the bathroom. She'd fallen in love with Skinner back when Spot had resided over Brooklyn, and they'd carried their relationship through even with their new leader. Hearing a groan over her shoulder, she looked back and saw Trigger lying in a bloodied heap on the floor.

"What da hell?" she asked, giving Skinner a confused look. Neither of them really liked Trigger, they'd both liked Spot better, but they'd learned to at least be loyal to Trigger.

Groaning, he managed to push himself up a little and looked around, cursing. "dnit…" he muttered. "Da dned chickens ran…"

"Triggah, are ya gonna jus' sit dere coisin', or are ya gonna tell us what happened," Skater asked, rather mad at Trigger for being such an idiot.

"I'se righ'! Kattie _is_ Conlon's sistah!" Trigger said, glaring up at Skater and Skinner. "Now come help me up dnit! We'se got ta send people out lookin' for her an' Bittah!"

Skinner walked over and grabbed the leader's hand, yanking him to his feet as Skater leaned back against the doorjamb in surprise.

"B-Bittah?" she asked with a scoffing laugh. "She's woikin' against us? Yas must be drunk, Triggah…"

Skinner snorted a little in laughter too. Bittah wasn't the type to betray them. He and Skater would be more likely to do it. Because at least they'd actually known and liked Spot.

"You'se shoah?" he asked gruffly.

"goddnit! A coise I'se shoah!" Trigger yelled, pissed as hell. "Now send out a soich pawty an' track d'ose two goils down! Now!"

Skater sighed and walked out of the room, calling for Cards. When the other girl strolled out of the girl's bunkroom and into the hallway, she sighed.

"Call tagethah da troups. We's gotta foim a soich pawty foah Bittah an' Kattie," she said, rolling her eyes.

Cards quirked an eyebrow at Skater and laughed. "Bittah?" she asked, not believing it.

"Yeah," Skater replied, rolling her eyes. "I'se didn't believe it meself. But oh wells, what 'da great Triggah Jones' says goes."

Cards nodded, and laughing, gave a sharp whistle that caused heads all over the lodging house to shoot up. "Ta da great room!" she cried out in a voice that boomed. 

Skater laughed as she saw Trigger and Skinner heading out and downstairs, along with the rest of the kids pouring out into the hall.

"What's goin' on?" Striker asked, coming up to Skater.

"You'se gonna see in jus' a minute," Skater replied, grabbing some bandages and peroxide for Trigger out of a cabinet. Everyone headed to the great room, and was quickly assembled within less than a minute. 

Spot ran as fast as he could to Aunt Helen's banging on the door when he got there. "Is-Is me sistah heah?" he asked the kindly old lady who opened the door, fumbling over the words as he tried to breathe. 

"Sweet Kat'rine?" the old voice said, the words seeming somehow filled with wisdom and the experience of years. "I'se afraid she's not, young Benjamin. I'se thought you'se said she was in Colahrado…"

Sighing, he put his head in his hand, feeling as though he wanted to cry. "She's back," he said, giving the old woman a look full of worry. "An' she's come ta Brooklyn ta fight foah me. An' I'se tryin' ta find her, but I'se can'!"

"Sh…" the old woman soothed, stepping out her door and putting a gentle arm around Spot's shoulders. "It's gonna be a'ight. You'se jus' let yer Aunt Helen take care of yas."

He nodded and let her steer him gently inside, biting back tears at the thought of his sister. "I'se jus' wanna see her one last time. Tell her I'se sorry," he said, looking up at his "Aunt Helen" as they called her. 

Manhattan was a place that kids went for a doctor when they were hurt, but in Brooklyn, their source of medical aide had long been the old woman that stood before Spot. He and Criss-Cross had met the old woman when a goon had attacked Criss-Cross, and beaten her badly only a week after she'd joined the ranks of Brooklyn. Spot had been crying as he'd carried his already-beloved sister back to the lodging house, afraid she'd die, when all of a sudden Aunt Helen had appeared out of her door and taken the two children inside. Criss-Cross had stayed at her house for two days before she'd walked out looking good considering what had happened.

"Calm down, Benjamin," Aunt Helen soothed, pushing him lightly into a chair, and quickly making him some mint tea with a practiced hand. Setting it in his hands, she said kindly, "Drink dis, it'll help. An' let me get a good look at dat arm…"

Spot nodded, immediately obeying. Holding his arm out to her, he took a sip of the tea, finding it immediately calming. He also felt it clearing his mind a bit, making his thoughts sharper instead of dulled by panic. 

"What if she gets hoit cuz of me?" he asked worriedly as Aunt Helen stripped off his old bandage and rinsed his healing shot wound off with a mixture of herbs that numbed the pain and cleansed it.

"Benjamin Conlon, t'ink clearly wit' dat head of yers. She's yer sistah. You'se taught her how ta fight an' win. She's ain't gonna get hoit," Aunt Helen replied, the edges of her face scrunching up a bit as she gave him a surprisingly toothy smile. Her bright green eyes twinkled as she thought about the fiery young Conlon girl.

Spot sighed and drank some more of his tea as she put an herbal balm on his wound next. "I'se can' help it," he stated, remorse tinting his every word. "I'se love her ta death, an' if she gets hoit cuz a me…"

Aunt Helen sighed and wrapped her arm back up in a clean bandage that smelled of lavender. "You'se gonna worry yerself ta death, an' then when she's comin' lookin' foah yas, I'se gonna have ta say, ''E died a worry 'bout ya', an' t'ink how bad _she's_ gonna feel then."

Laughing, Spot grinned at Aunt Helen, finishing off the last of his tea. "Well den, I'se guessin' I'se outta be goin' an' tryin' ta find her…T'anks Aunt Helen." Smiling still, he walked out the door, heading for the lodging house, remembering good times with his sister.

A/N: So…You thought? I hope you thought "Wow, that was amazing! I'm gonna review!" PLEASE say you thought that! And anyway, if you have any questions that need to be answered in the next chappies, put them in your review! cough HINT cough Damn, I've still got this cold…Anyway, it's time for the –you guessed it- Shout Outs!

**Shout Outs for All My Wonderful Reviewers: **(don't you wanna see your name on this list?)

**Angelfish: **I love Ivy! In my mind she's one of the most awesome characters I have. I'm thinking I might right a story simply devoted to her. And they'll meet…eventually…I think…lol But I'm glad you can't wait! I'll try to get the next chapter up fast. There's another surprise in it!

**Kryscrossed:** Glad you liked it! And I'll try to post again soon! These long breaks in between chapters are so cruel, considering we're going into the climax. lol And your question –believe it or not- is actually going to be answered! lol

**Bittah:** Alright! Alright! I'll give you action! lol And thanks for lending me the characters in the first place. I'm going to be using them a couple more times.

**Skater:** Yay! I'm glad they aren't boring! And I'm sorry I didn't have this chapter up sooner…Forgive me?

**Air:** Yay! You reviewed! And I'll try to update faster! But I definitely will if you review again!

Anyway, night all! And I'll try to update soon. Please review!

Criss-Cross


	37. Chapter ThirtySeven: Different Doorways

A/N: Well, after over a year-long writer's block, here's the next chapter. Lol It's a little on the short side, and I'm sorry for that. But the next chapter should be coming soon! I promise! (Feel free to bug me if it doesn't come soon enough.) Oh, and by the way, I'm too lazy to do the accents anymore, so just pretend they're there.

Same disclaimer as always.

**Chapter Thirty-Seven:** **Different Doorways**

Jack Kelly looked around him, slightly stunned as he and the others watched the East Side kids strapping on knives, putting brass knuckles in their pockets, and tugging on their coats and caps. In a few coat pockets, Jack saw the unforgiving gleam of lengths of thick chain. Very few of the newsies carried their traditional weapon of slingshots and sticks, but slowly Jack began to realize why that was. Slingshots and marbles were toy weapons for children. What they were entering into was not going to be child's play, it was a real, full-blown war, and it was going to be a real fight. Not some little squabble between boroughs. This time, there would be casualties – there already _had_ been casualties. Standing in the doorway to the East Side Lodging House, it finally hit Jack and his companions just how serious this fight would be.

"What're you gawking at, Kelly?" the still slightly-high voice of Ashes Nelson, Ivy's younger brother asked. Normally the kid was a sweetheart, but when it came to Jack, he felt no love.

"So many weapons…" Kit Kat commented, her eyes wide in wonder, and fear.

"What did you think we were doing? Going down to the docks for a swim?" a boy named Rival snapped.

"This is war," Ashes stated, a serious, hardened look in his normally playful eyes.

"It just hadn't hit us how serious this is, until now," Jack defended himself, trying to keep his eyes from gazing around him in wonder. Ivy had half a dozen kids in her lodging house, all under the age of eight. Yet even they were being given knives, and quick instructions on how to use them.

"Shouldn't you leave the kids behind?" he asked, seeing fear plainly written across the face of the young Needle.

"No," a voice behind him said. The question had been meant for Phantom, who'd come up just behind Ashes, but it was Gloves who was answering it. "They would just be leaving them to be massacred should Queens win, or if Queens sends out scouting parties while we're fighting. Believe it or not, Cowboy, they're safer with us."

Alleyway nodded behind Gloves, her mouth set in a grim line. "Well come on," she said, "We should get going."

"Yeah," Wicked agreed. "Criss, Ivy, and Bittah won't be able to hold down the fort long. They're in more danger every second we waste."

"How did you know Ivy's gone?" Ashes asked, knitting his brows. _Was Kelly spying on them?_

"Obvious, isn't it?" Gloves said, smiling slightly. "Ivy's not here. If she was Jack'd have more hell to pay."

Everyone but Jack laughed at that, as Ivy's well-trained boys and girls piled out of the lodging house and onto the streets. There was tension in the air as the kids huddled in a tight not around Phantom. It was obvious that he was in charge of the group while Ivy was away. Jack had often wondered if there was something between the two of them, and it appeared he had his answer.

"Let's go," was all Phantom said to them all before he melted off into the shadows that lead to Brooklyn. The rest of the group following, many of the young ones heading for the shadows and disappearing as well.

"Your boys ready to go Jack?" Ashes asked as he stepped out at a brisk pace. He had grown up with Criss-Cross and Spot, and underneath the stolid, serious mask that birds were taught to put on, Gloves thought he could detect some worry.

"All of mine are, and so are Wicked's. Jack's were getting ready when we left. They're waiting for our signal," Gloves replied for Jack as Alleyway gave him a shove in the right directions.

"Want me to run ahead and tell them to head out?" Alleyway asked, wanting just as much as Ashes to get to Brooklyn quickly.

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea, I think," Gloves replied, taking over control from the group.

"Please, literally run," Ashes pleaded, letting down his wall for an instant, and turning terrified eyes upon Alley.

"I will," she promised, then turned to Wicked and gave him a quick peck. "See you there!" she called out in mock cheeriness as she headed off.

"Be careful!" a worried Wicked called after her, but she never heard him, she was already lost amongst the shadows.

…

An apprehensive Criss-Cross crouched on the roof next to Bittah, watching some of Trigger's boys police the area. She didn't know what they were searching for, but she knew that whatever it was wasn't' good. They were a half a block from the lodging house, but they couldn't go any further until the search-party had left.

Creeping along the rooftop, Criss-Cross stepped lightly onto the fire escape, then nimbly jumped to the next one. "Where are you going?" Bittah hissed behind her, following silently. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Spot said in his note that he'd be at Aunt Helen's," Criss-Cross replied, scurrying silently across the next rooftop. "And I'll bet anything that's what Trigger's boys are trying to find."

"So that's where we're going?"

"Not precisely."

However, where they were going, Bittah would never find out, because at that instant someone jumped out of the shadows, hissing at Criss-Cross and piercing her through with an amber-eyed gaze.

"Now just who the hell do you think you are?" the person demanded.

Criss-Cross's attention did not revert to the stranger, instead it focused on an opening doorway a few blocks away.

"I was wondering when you'd show up Ivy…"

…

A/N: Yeah. It's short, and there's not a lot of action. Okay, more like, not any action. But hey, it's building up. And also, I'm planning on going back and editing all the other chapters, so that they'll be in better shape soon. Please, as always, review.

Spot: _Review a I'se'll soak yas!_

Spot! I know you've been silent a year, but BE POLITE for goodness sakes.

And now…For the Shout Outs!

**Shout Outs to all those of you wonderful people who reviewed so very long ago!**

**Bittah**: Ah, my dear old friend. I miss talking to you babe. And I missed Sick and Twisted. Right more on it dangit! Oh, btw, this chapter was all for you…Well, mostly because you inspired me to write again, my little muse. And don't worry. Next chapter there WILL be action.

**Kryscrossed**: I do hope that the over-a-year-long suspense hasn't killed you, and that you don't hate me for taking so long to write the next chapter. I mean, I wrote it at least, right!

**Air:** Ah, um…I feel bad. I promised that. And you all reviewed. But I never updated…Bad me! Anyway, I promise the next update will come faster this time!

**Angelfish7:** Yes. I'm definitely going to do it now. I'll send out a casting call when I get closer to actually starting it and decide how many characters I'll need. I also have another idea for a story about Ivy and Spot, but it wouldn't be set in the past, it'd be in the current day. And anyway, there was supposed to be a surprise in this chapter, but it's been moved until next chapter. Lol

**Skater:** Once again I must give the guilty smile as I say I'm sorry for not updating sooner. I just hope you don't hate me!

**Betchya OConnor:** Well, um, I kinda had a long long writers block. That's kinda why I didn't update. I'm glad you're hooked though! Cuz there's more on the way!

**Jas:** I'm glad you like the story, and I hope you continue reading.

See you all in the next chappie!

Criss and _Spot_


	38. Chapter ThirtyEight: Ready to Fight

A/N: Okay, as usual, I meant to have this up ages ago, and I just never managed to get it done. However, the next chapter's actually almost done, and it should be going up really soon, so watch out for it.

My usual disclaimer that I do not own Newsies, nor do I own the characters in it, Disney does.

**Chapter Thirty-Eight:** **Ready to Fight**

The night had grown dark as midnight drew near, but the windows of the Duane Street Lodging House shone eerily with light. Alleyway was still moments away from her destination when someone else approached the house. A tall boy with deep brown eyes, weathered skin from being outdoors, and sun-streaked hair stepped up to the lodging house, and raised his hand to knock on the door.

Something was weighing on him, and he changed his mind at the last second, letting his hand fall lightly against the door, his knuckles resting on the hard wood grain. But even the little noise it made against the door was enough to rouse the nerves of the lodging house, and as he turned to go, a lock was turned, and the door squeaked open a crack.

A bright blue eye and a slice of pale skin was all that could be seen through the door, and with it came a quivering female voice, demanding, "Who's there?"

With a sigh, the boy turned back to face the door and stated, "I'm looking for Criss-Cross Conlon."

"Yah've missed 'er," the girl replied, her New York accent stark against his unaccented words.

They stood in silence for a moment, but then the girl asked, "D-do you want to come in?"

He nodded, and the door opened to reveal a short teenage beauty wearing only a thinning petticoat, and a simple white chemise. It became increasingly obvious to the boy that he had interrupted something as he looked around the room. There were a few tangled blankets on the floor, clothes thrown carelessly everywhere, and a boy pulling a pair of suspenders up over his bare shoulders.

"Vice," the girl said, turning to the other boy. "Go get Gip and Specs will ya?"

Jack had put Specs in charge of the Lodging House while he was gone. The other boy, clearly Vice, nodded and went off up the stairs.

"I'm Dan by the way," the visitor said quietly.

"Ya ain't got a nickname?" the girl asked, her mussed blonde curls bouncing slightly.

"No, I guess I don't," he said, slightly confused. "Should I?"

"I dunno," the girl admitted. "I guess I'm just kinda used to everyone having one. Y'know? Like, I'm Curls. See. That's a nickname."

"It's nice to meet you, Curls," Dan said, holding out his hand to her.

"Nice ta meet ya too," Curls replied, spitting into her hand and shaking his, then giggling girlishly at the disgusted look on his face.

"You're disgusting," spat a girl at the top of the stairs, shoving Vice away as she stormed down. She was followed by a thin boy in spectacles, and Dan guessed that they were Gip and Specs.

"Get back upstairs Vice," Specs said, annoyed.

"My god..." said Gip, looking at Curls in horror and disgust, then, shaking her head, she exploded, "We're about to go to war and you-"

"You too Curls," Specs interrupted her. "Get upstairs. And for God's sake get some clothes on!"

Curls giggled girlishly again and shot Specs a sultry look, but grabbed her skirt from one corner, her shirt from the other, and headed up the stairs.

"It looks like I came at a bad time," said Dan, turning towards the door. He'd come so far, and just now was getting cold feet.

"Who are you anyway?" Gip snapped, still miffed.

"I'm...a friend of...I'm Dan..." he finally managed to say rather lamely.

"And what are you doing here?" Gip demanded.

"I'm...I'm..."

"Spit it out!"

"I'm looking for Criss-Cross. She's a good friend of mine. Or, was a good friend of mine at least…She headed up our lodging house in Colorado."

"Criss-Cross is in Brooklyn," Specs said kindly, realizing Dan might not understand.

"What does that mean?" Dan asked.

"It means that you've probably lost all chance of ever seeing her again," Gip said, easing off a little.

"What? But that can't be. Criss-Cross is too tough to--"

"Is everyone ready to go?" Alleyway interrupted as she burst through the door.

Specs nodded in response and gave walked to the stairs, shouting, "Let's go!"

"I'm sorry you made the trip for nothing," Gip apologized as kids began to pour down the stairs, a nervous tension running through each and every one of them.

"You can come along and fight if you want," Specs said.

"Sure," Dan replied softly as he moved with the mass of kids out the door.

What seemed like a world away, in Brooklyn, Criss-Cross laughed.

"Ivy Nelson..." she said as though feeling the words out with her tongue. It had been a long time since she'd said the name, and it felt unfamiliar. Her gaze was still fixed upon the opening door of Aunt Helen's house, and worry was ripping through her heart. There was no way to tell who was coming out, and all of Trigger's boys were too close for her to safely move closer to see. Her heart was telling her it was Spot in that door, but her heart was saying just to wait. Whoever was opening the door had stopped and turned back to say something, and each second felt like an eternity as she wait, muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.

"I don't even get a hello?" Ivy asked, faking a pout as she looked Bittah up and down.

"Forgive for being so rude, but I'm..." Criss-Cross suddenly stopped mid-sentence as she recognized the figure of her brother coming out of the door, right before a gang of Trigger's boys, headed by Griff, surrounded him.

"Hiya Spottie," Griff's sneering voice floated up to the girls.

"Shit..." muttered Criss-Cross, her voice echoing Spot's far below.

A/N: Not my best in my opinion, but I had writer's block, so what can you expect? Did anyone remember Dan? From the like 3rd or 4th chapter? If you did, major bonus points to you!

**Shout Outs:**

**Skater:** I'd never forget about you all. I just get horribly busy…Anyway, do you hate me now for this long wait? I do, however, promise the next chappie VERY soon. I'm hoping to finish it tonight in between homework and more homework.

**Bittah:** You finally updated, and I finally updated! Aren't we quite a pair! Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter…It's kind of boring, pointless, and stupid, but I had to through something in there. Besides, there's LOTS of action in the next few chapters, so hopefully they'll make up for just how bad and short this one is. Wow, I don't think I've ever read the whole thing in one sitting. I really need to though. But it's just so darn long…

**Betchya O'Connor: **It's completely fine that you were harsh, though, I don't remember you being harsh. Sometimes I do need a little meanness to prod me into a new chapter. Or some guilt. And sorry it's taken so horrifically long for me to update again, I'm such a bad girl about updating…This happens with all of my stories, I get right up to the climax, and then suddenly just stop writing the story. Maybe I have some fear of climaxes….Who knows? Anyway, I'm determined to struggle through this one, so just hang in there with me.

**Midnight:** Heya girl. How're you? I'm really glad that you like my story. I've worked hard on it in the year plus that I've been writing it. Personally I think the middle chapters are the best, my writing was too abrupt in the beginning, and it's just too dry now I think, but I'm determined to at least finish the story.

**SpotsDiamond:** Wow, you all make me feel so guilty because you say "I can't wait for more" and then I make you wait, and wait, and wait for more. But I promise that you will get at least the next chapter very soon, and I'm so glad that you're enjoying my little, or, rather, long, story here. I hope you continue reading and reviewing.

**Krys: **Yeah. I know, that last chapter was really short, and so's this one. I tried to make it longer, but it just didn't happen. It's too weird of a chapter, but the next chapter should be exciting and longer as well, because next chapter really hits the climax. And trust me, if you can't remember it, you should try being me. I barely remember some of the things that have happened before, and I constantly have to go back and reference them because they were so terribly long ago. It makes it really hard to write on occasion…

**Bryna:** Yeah, I'm terribly sorry about all the names. They confuse me too a lot of the time. But, well, I did a casting call for parts, and I got a LOT of characters for this, and, unfortunately, some of them had really similar names, like Striker and Skater, or Vice and Ice. It gets a let crazy for me sometimes too. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Now, a very Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!

(I just felt like saying that…Hey, it should be Christmas since I just posted a new chappie, right!)

Criss


	39. Chapter ThirtyNine: A Fight For Life

A/N: Well, I tried to get this up yesterday, but it just wasn't to my liking, so I spent a couple of hours today revising and fixing some stuff in it, so I do hope that you'll enjoy it. It's a bit short, but there's lots of action.

Disclaimer: Disney owns _Newsies_, I do not.

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: A Fight for Life**

"Shit..."

"What is it, Spottie?" Griff taunted, "Not happy to see me?"

"Not particularly, Griff," Spot growled, glaring at the boys that had surrounded him. Half of them had been his old boys, friends he'd had since early childhood, but it was obvious they'd turned on him. They belonged to Trigger now.

"Well, let's get this over with, shall we?" Griff asked, though, it was almost more of a statement.

"I suppose. You never were polite enough to just stand around and talk, were you?" Spot retorted, goading him. "Always had to just get right into being physical. Maybe that's why all the girls hated you."

He ducked as Griff swung, ramming his fist into the nearest bit of the Bronx leader that he could reach. He made contact with Griff's stomach, and a smirk crossed his face at the satisfying "mph!" that followed. In an instant, fists were flying from all directions, but only a few hit.

Spot ignored the pain in his upper arm, and used his shoulder to drive Griff to the ground. Before Griff could even realize he'd fallen, Spot was already tearing into the next nearest guy, fists flying just for the love of the fight. Spot was out-numbered, though, and he had the first sensation of fear as one boy grabbed his left upper-arm, shooting blinding pain through his body. In that instant, the boy pinned both of Spot's arms, and another came in with a sharp jab to Spot's nose. He tasted blood as a second punch rammed into his chest.

He braced himself for another blow, but one never came. A small hand had shot out and grabbed the fist mid-swing, forcing it back into its owner's face. He didn't need to see the face of his rescuer to know who that small hand belonged to, and that knowledge gave him renewed strength to throw off the boy holding him and jump back into the fight. His little sister was already long-gone, fists flying into any piece of flesh they could hit, but Spot was elated just to know that she was fighting on his side again.

His happiness didn't last long, however, as more of Trigger's kids poured into the square. Spot recognized Skater, and the traitor Spunk in the midst of the new-coming fighter, and growled, his mind fully on their betrayal, forgetting about the fight for a moment. Spunk had turned long before Spot's supposed death, but there had always been rumors that she'd been forced. Skater, on the other hand, had been one of his right up until; the end. She may not have been his favorite, but at least she had always been loyal until now.

His mind didn't get to linger on betrayals long though, as a fist skimmed the edge of his ear, slamming right into the face of Griff behind him.

"Get your head in the fight, damnit!" Ivy yelled at him, but Spot noticed a slight smile playing across her face.

"Good to see you too, Ivy," he laughed, smirking at her.

"Would you two shut your mouths and fight?" an irritated voice yelled their way, and Spot vaguely recognized the speaker as Bittah, a Chicago girl who'd shown up right before all the trouble had started. He'd have to remember to thank her for being so loyal later, if they survived.

Survival didn't seem very likely at the moment though. They were becoming more and more out-numbered as more of Trigger's kids poured into the fight. It was clear that Trigger had expected something to happen, because it seemed as though all of his fighters were in Brooklyn, and it was only Bittah, Criss-Cross, Ivy, and Spot himself fighting against them, and they were slowly but surely losing ground.

Spot's fears became more realistic as he suddenly felt solid wall behind his back. He'd been backed up all the way to the other side of the street, and he could no longer see Bittah and Ivy. They'd all been separated by the fighting and forced in different directions. A small outcry from the other side of the street tore at his heartstrings as he dodged a punch, causing Bullet's fist to slam into the brick.

Shoving the injured boy away from him, Spot started for the other side of the street, trying to get to Criss-Cross. He'd let his sister get hurt too many times for him already, and he wasn't about to let her die defending him.

Out of Spot's sight, Criss-Cross was pinned to the ground, her world reeling from where her head smacked the ground when Alibi had tripped her. He had never liked her, and she had never given him reason to. She'd always taken all the glory from him, but now he was about to take it back by being the one to kill her. He didn't feel the need to rush the process either; the others could handle Spot, Bittah, and Ivy. He had a personal vendetta to accomplish.

"You always were a little bitch, Criss-Cross," Alibi sneered venomously, tightening his grip on her to a bruising level as she struggled to get away. "And now I get to be the one to fix it."

"Go to hell!" she spat, wriggling to get free. It was no use, though; his weight was just too much for her to throw off. Not that getting free would have helped her much. She was still seeing double of him, and wasn't sure which one to punch anyway.

"Be quiet!" he shrieked angrily. "You always have to have some kind of say don't you? With Spot you always had a say. With Ad you always had a--"

"That was four years ago!" Criss-Cross snarled, exasperated, her vision slowly returning to normal.

"What does that matter to me? You always took the glory and got the attention. You--"

"Jealous?" she retorted, hitting the nail right on the head, but his reaction was much more violent that what Criss-Cross had hoped for.

"II am not jealous!" he roared, drawing a knife at lightning speed. Criss-Cross flinched and shut her eyes as the knife flashed towards her throat. Maybe she was bold in the face of death, but in the moment of her death, she was terrified and couldn't look.

But only a thud came from somewhere above her. There was no metallic ring of the knife striking the hard ground, and there certainly wasn't the cold, biting sting of metal at her throat. When she opened her eyes, a familiar face was hovering above hers.

"I knew you could never betray me," Criss-Cross said, grinning at Advantage as he held out a large hand to help her up.

"So am I forgiven?" he asked jokingly.

"Of course," Criss-Cross responded, slamming her fist into the nose of one of Griff's boys once she was back on her feet.

She headed off into the fight without another word, disappearing into the crowd right as Spot finally punched his way to where she'd been, but instead he found Advantage elbowing Alibi in the face as he stood up, blood streaming from his nose.

Instead of saying anything, Spot just gave him a rare, friendly approving smile, and tuned to pound the nearest opponent that he could. Trying to come up with a plan to get them all out of the mess alright, and, for the very first time in his life, he found himself truly praying that they would all be alright.

On the opposite side of the square, however, things weren't going nearly as well for Bittah and Ivy, who were fighting side-by-side, despite being complete strangers to one another. It felt to the two of them as though there were two more people to fight for every one that they knocked down, and both of them were bleeding and bruised.

Ivy had a gash across her forehead, and had to keep wiping the blood away before it got to her eyes. The shoulder of Bittah's shirt was ripped, and blood was flowing out of the wound, staining the material a deep red. The knuckles on both of their hands were bruised and bleeding from all the fighting, but both girls were determined to fight on.

As Bittah brought her knee into Tyrant's groin, she realized the irony of it. She'd fought side-by-side with these kids for nearly a month, some of them longer than that, and in the change of less than a day, here she was fighting against them. Who would ever have figured that she'd end up like this?

She'd always fought for the power, because she'd been taught that it was the smart thing, but now she was fighting against the power, just because her heart said it was right.

_Since when have I ever listened to my heart_, Bittah thought, _I've got to be the biggest idiot in all of New York for fighting on this side, but I'm still doing it. _

Bittah pulled back her arm as the face of her newest adversary swam into view, but her swing went wide as the person in front of her exclaimed, "Bittah?!"

'What the..."

"Bittah...No..." Spunk pleaded. "No. You can't be on their side. Why would you even consider being on their side. Trigger'll kill you!"

"So what if he does," Bittah snapped, though she was still asking herself the same question. "At least I'll die fighting for what I care about. Now get out of the way kid."

"Bittah, you can't--"

Sighing, Bittah shoved the girl out of the way as she decked the next person to come at her. "Sorry kid..." she muttered, turning to elbow Bullet in the stomach. She had to get that brief conversation out of her head, and violence was her way to do it. She'd already been having doubts about which side to be on, and Spunk had given her more second thoughts. Would it just be better to start fighting for Trigger's side? But could she betray Criss-Cross like that?

Her violent streak was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder, and that same voice that had made her turn in the first place, urgently saying in her ear, "Bittah, we gotta get outta here. We're too out-numbered. There's no way we can win."

Bittah nodded in agreement, and struck a Bronx boy in the face as she turned to see the worried expression on Criss-Cross's face. The girl had been through so much in the last few days, that even though she tried to stay tough, her exhaustion and worry were written in the droop of her shoulders, and the way she chewed the edge of her lip. She gave Bittah a rough half-smile, and turned towards the closest alley, and their nearest escape.

As she turned around, Bittah wondered how she could ever have considered turning back to Trigger's side. She had to help this desperate, lonely girl achieve anything and everything. She didn't even know why, but she knew she just had to do it. Maybe it was because she saw something of herself, the younger self she'd been once, in Criss-Cross. For a peaceful second, her mind and heart actually agreed with each other that she was doing the right thing.

But that instant was ripped away as she turned to follow Criss-Cross, and instead of seeing the younger girl heading up the alley, saw Trigger Jones sauntering down it, right towards Criss-Cross, and the rest of the battle. It was clear that in the cynical leader's mind, this would be the end of any opposition, and he had come to oversee his finally victory, like a King who goes to watch the winning battle in his most important war. There would be no getting out alive for Bittah and her new-found friends.

A/N: Well, was it worth the very short wait? And was the action as you'd hoped it would be? Anyway, I won't waste your time, so here's the Shout Outs:

**Shout Outs:**

**Bittah:** Ahh…Finally, lots of action. You've gotta admit, it's nice. Though, somehow I feel that Bittah should have gotten to royally pound someone in this chapter. I feel like I almost made her a little too soft…Maybe she'll pound the hell out of someone in the next chapter, to make up for this one. And I hope you realize that I only forced myself to update the last chapter because I felt horribly guilty that you'd updated and I hadn't…I just wish that I could make you feel guilty…

**Gip: **You got more! lol I hope I didn't make your character too harsh in the last chapter, you'll have to tell me if I'm anywhere near how she's supposed to be. See, I kinda lost all of the responses to my CC when my comp crashed sometime during my very long writer's block, so I just kinda have to go off of what I wrote in previous chapters.

**Diamond: **Of course you get your own shout out. All of my reviewers do. Feels nice to get it though, doesn't it? I'm glad you were happy to see I'd updated, and I hope you were even more elated to see I'd updated again this time, and so soon as well! I hope you'll be able to wait a bit longer still towards the next chappie, cuz I have no clue when it'll be coming. Anyway, I'm gonna have to check out some of your fanfics pretty soon. Or else I'll just feel guilty…

**Midnight:** Well, it had been a while since I updated, but at least this update came fast. I think this was actually 2 chappies in 1 week. Wow, brings me back to when I first started writing this. I would write one chapter, and then a few hours (or, occasionally a day or two) later, bam, next chapter's finished! It was nice, actually. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. And, well, you'll just have to keep reading to see if the Conlons die. Anyway, hope to see your review soon!

As always, to every, PLEASE review. Don't make me sick Spot on you!

Criss-Cross


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